


Deluge in the Wasteland

by silverspidertm2



Series: Deluge!verse [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Families of Choice, Family Drama, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-04
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-10-28 22:04:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 55,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/312646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverspidertm2/pseuds/silverspidertm2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe she'd been wrong. Maybe she was hiding from the wrong person. It couldn't hurt just to see him one more time before... Bruce/Talia. Post-'Son of the Demon' AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In researching and writing ‘The Changeling’ I became completely fascinated with the character of Talia al Ghul, a woman so full of contradictions, I had to go through almost every appearance of hers in the comics and the animated series to even begin to understand her. So naturally I had to try and write a story where she’d play a bigger role than she had in the start and end of my last story. Thus, ‘Deluge in the Wasteland’ was born. In this story, I’m making a few assumptions and allowances.  
> * My primary influence for the way I write Talia is ‘Son of the Demon’, the first few issues of ‘Red Hood – The Lost Days’, her brief appearance in ‘No Man’s Land’, and in the animated series. Though I know he’s considered the end-all-and-be-all of Batman these days and while I do like some of his work, I highly disapprove of what Grant Morrison did to her.  
> * That being said, in none of my stories is Damian a test tube baby or basically the product of rape. I’m going to consider ‘Son of the Demon’ canon for my purposes. This takes place two months after. I am assuming that Talia hid the fact that she was still pregnant from everyone. Not only Bruce, but Ra’s as well.  
> * Marring this with the regular continuity, I’m going to assume that this takes place a little after Bruce finds Jason. That is, Jason is about 11-12. He’s lived in the manor for a few months but is not fully integrated and is not yet Robin. Dick is Nightwing, off in college and/or with the Teen Titans.  
> * Because this is prior to Jason’s murder and because ‘Son of the Demon’ is canon for this – and my other – story, Bruce might come off a little softer. It’s generally agreed that his turn towards the darker persona happened at least partially as a result of Jason’s murder, so it’s not there yet. At the same time, since this is comic-verse Bruce and Jason just got there, we might also see some less-than-amazing parenting at first (for those of you who are used to me writing great-dad!Bruce) because it was Jason he made so many mistakes with.

She was Talia al Ghul, daughter of the Demon. She kowtowed to no one and nothing, which earned her both respect and a healthy amount of fear among allies and enemies alike. She commanded armies without hesitation. She was smart, powerful, and capable... and she was a coward.

Not that she let the fear show. All the servants and soldiers saw was a shorter fuse which they swiftly steered clear of. Her father, though unaware of the full natures of her distress, could see enough to know that she wished to be left alone and comply. She suspected he just didn’t want to deal with what he must have thought as a woman’s foolish emotions. He must have thought it was nothing more than a broken heart, that it would pass in time.

Talia was not so sure. At the very least she knew it would not be anytime soon. A heart broken by ones’ own hand was not easily mended. One day she might return to ‘normal’, but now even the hot desert sun did nothing to help her swiftly paling complexion. The lack of appetite that only she knew the true source of left her weak. It was more than physical; she could feel herself wither inside.

“Mistress?”

It was a servant with a tray of food. They came like clockwork with every meal and usually retrieved the tray an hour later with most of the food untouched.

She didn’t bother turning. “Leave it.”

The serving woman bowed, set the tray on the table by her bed, bowed, and departed. When the door closed, she glanced at the tray. The melon slices, oranges, and assortment of nuts might have been an option of they were not so close to the hardboiled egg that smelled so vile to her, she had to fight the urge to call the woman back and have the whole thing removed from her room. Of course she couldn’t do that, couldn’t raise suspicion.

Pushing the glass doors wide open, she stepped out onto the balcony. At the very least, the cool morning air helped curb some of the nausea, and the sounds and sights of the desert calmed her. It was so much more alive than anyone imagined. So early in the morning she could still hear the creatures that scurried about outside, nearly ready to find shelter from the coming day’s unforgiving sun. Talia wanted to hide as well, but wasn’t that what she was doing? Maybe she was hiding from the wrong person.

She’d had this thought every single day since she’d let him go, pushed him away, really. Had it been the right choice? Was there any right choice? Had she wanted him to protest, to fight with her and tell her he wouldn’t leave? Would that have changed her decision? Would he have been happy if he stayed? So many questions... She wished she had even a single certain answer.

The problem, of course, was that she was a coward. She thought she could make this decision for the two – the three – of them completely on her own. She’d been so _sure_ what she was doing was for the best.

In the beginning, she’d been sure. So very sure...

But now every fiber of her being screamed at her that she was wrong, the loneliness and pain of keeping her secret all but consuming. She knew there were good reasons to try to ignore these feelings, but they washed over her in waves, and Talia didn’t know if she could ride them out before the end. She felt as if she was drowning, and the only source of air was thousands of miles away.

 _Just one breath..._

It might sustain her in the coming months. The servants would not question, and her father was away. In any case, it was not out of character for her to disappear to the states for months at a time on her own business. As long as she checked in every once in a while, he would give her free reign with few questions. Either way, she would have to withdraw from sight sooner than later. What did it matter if she spent the last week or so in Gotham?

The crème satin gown swished on the marble floor as she turned towards the door.

Her mind was made up, and, really, there was no harm. No one would know the truth... including her beloved.

* * * * * * * * * *

  
There were times – terrible times that he didn’t care to dwell on – that Bruce thought that maybe this was a mistake. It wasn’t when the boy failed a drill or puzzle or when he argued with him. God knew Dick had done all of the above and then some. No, Jason didn’t have the drilled ease of a trained acrobat, but skills would come with practice and time. Those were not the things that made him think twice.

What made him think twice were moments when the boy seemed so distracted, so lost within his own mind, that when Bruce finally got through, he’d blink and stare at him uncomprehendingly as if he’d just missed the last ten minutes of the conversation. Or when he’d wake up screaming in the middle of the night and then pretend nothing was wrong. Alfred had told him he’d washed sheets so saturated with sweat they could practically be wrung out.

Post-traumatic stress.

It wasn’t like Dick. Dick had done everything right; went to therapy when he was young, talked to his friends when he was older. Jason refused to talk about anything from his past to anyone, Bruce, Alfred, or the well-meaning, but ill-prepared school guidance councilor. For Dick, the death of his parents had been the one thing to manage, to learn to cope with, whereas Jason’s entire life up until Bruce found him was nothing but a long string of traumatic events.

Maybe that was why he kept delaying giving him the Robin suit; no matter how badly Jason wanted it, Bruce was hoping to avoid more trauma. There were times when he wondered if the boy would be better off someplace else...

…now was not one of those times.

Only seconds after pulling into the cave from patrol, he was greeted with the biggest smile he’d ever seen on the child as soon as the car door opened. Jason, rumpled hair, pajamas, bare feet and all, was practically bouncing. And time like this Bruce had absolutely no doubts, because seeing Jason so happy was one of the very few things that gave him a true sense of joy. Still, he put on a half-hearted stoic look.

“You should be sleeping.” Bruce pushed back the cowl and looked.

“I know, I know. I was. Just heard the car come in.”

He raised a brow, getting out of the car. “You must be a very light sleeper, if you heard it from all the way upstairs.”

Almost instantly he winced inwardly. He _knew_ Jason was a light sleeper. Survival instincts and a healthy amount of paranoia from life in the East End had made him this way. Luckily, the boy didn’t seem to notice the ill-placed quip. He rolled his eyes at Bruce as if to say, “Have you seen the engine on this thing?” and grinning, held up a piece of paper for his inspection.

“Look!”

He did and smiled. “An A- in math. That’s very good.”

“I know!” The boy beamed.

What little he managed to obtain of Jason’s school records when the fostering was finalized a few months ago showed that he’d rarely gotten anything higher than Cs. It wasn’t because he was stupid – far from it – but the circumstances of Jason’s earlier life in the dingy little apartment above Crime Alley had left him with little time or means to study. Now that he was in a safe environment and with a tutor as dedicated as Alfred – and Bruce himself when time permitted – his true aptitude came out.

He got out of the car. “How was the English lit test?”

Jason visibly wilted. “Umm... math was better?”

 _Aha..._

The problem with Jason was that he did well on subjects he found worthy of his attention. Math was useful, and so were the sciences. Jason could link them to things Bruce taught him about detective work and crime scene investigation. He also had an amazing knack for civics almost immediately, and when asked, Jason had explained that he had to know the legal system in case he ever got in trouble and had to find a way to beat it. Bruce had no idea how he felt about that answer.

So what was wrong with English lit? If you were twelve-year-old Jason: everything.

“You can’t keep doing this,” Bruce sighed. “I know you don’t like it, but find a way to get through it without Fs. Preferably without Ds or Cs, too.”

The boy’s earlier jovial expression wilted. “I thought you’d be happy about the math...”

“I am, but I’d be even happier if you weren’t failing English lit.”

The hand that was holding the math exam drooped along with Jason’s smile. Sensing that he’d just done something nearly unforgivably damaging, Bruce pulled off the gloves and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder, gently guiding him towards the exit of the cave.

“It’s okay,” he promised. “We’ll work on it. Find some kind of approach you like.”

Jason humphed. “Right. Like there’s a point to some random words by a bunch of dead guys.”

“You’d be surprised. I heard some amazing stories when I traveled.”

Jason quirked a brow at him. “You mean when you disappeared for like... a month?”

Another inward wince. He had absolutely not meant to do that, especially not so soon after Jason’s arrival at the manor, before the boy could even start to get used to life there. But then the business with Ra’s and Qayin came up, and then Talia... The loss of that life – both literal and figurative – had been painful. Not so painful as to be unbearable, but sometimes he thought about what it might have been like to have her with him now, to look forward to holding their baby when it was born. He’d already been thinking of what to tell Alfred and especially Jason, but sadly the need never arose.

Maybe it was for the best. His conflict with Ra’s had been put on temporary hold when they teamed up against Qayin, but at the end of the day their differences were irreconcilable. They would forever be enemies, and Talia and their child would have gotten caught in the crossfire. It was better this way...

He almost believed it.

Jason seemed no happier in the morning as he got ready for school despite the fact that it was Friday. If anything, his mood was more melancholy, unbrightened by Alfred’s chocolate chip pancakes that he kept stabbing with an unnecessary amount of force. It didn’t help that the butler was giving Bruce a look that clearly meant he should be doing something about this. He just wished he knew what that was supposed to be.

“Are you prepared for the party tonight?” Alfred asked the boy in an attempt to make conversation. “Your tuxedo is pressed and ready.”

Bruce raised his coffee cup to hide any giveaway that he’d almost forgotten himself. At least it was a charity instead of another investor’s meeting in disguise. Charities he’d dress up for and – however reluctantly – play the role of playboy billionaire. Jason groaned.

“Do I have to?”

Bruce and Alfred exchanged a look. The charity was supposed to be a good opportunity to formally introduce Jason to the public, after months of rumors and speculations. The boy had argued but finally resigned himself to the fact that this new life came at the cost of slicked back hair and starch-drenched tuxedos every once in a while. Still, maybe now was not the best time to push that particular point.

“I think I can handle this one on my own,” Bruce finally said. “If you want to stay home tonight, you can. But go over that lit exam with Alfred. That’s the deal.”

“Fine,” Jason made a face. “Better than prancing around all those suits.”

When he went upstairs to finish getting ready for school, Bruce turned to Alfred. “Tell me what I’m doing wrong.”

He hadn’t expected a laundry list, though it would have probably made it easier. A checklist of problems and solutions was simple, had a beginning and end, and could be attacked methodically till completion. Much like a case. His oldest friend gave him a pained look.

“What was your very first thought just now, Master Bruce?”

 _That this was so much easier with Dick..._

 _Ouch!_ He glanced up at Alfred. “I see your point.”

The old man looked at him sympathetically. “No two children are the same, least of all in the way they respond to tragedy. They are both incredibly resilient, yes, but Master Richard and Master Jason could not be more different. Neither are you the same as you were years ago.”

“I just...” He didn’t know why he felt the need to defend himself when clearly he was in the wrong. “I want him to do well. Not just in training, but in general, in life. Is it really so bad for me to insist he doesn’t fail classes?”

“Certainly not, but it would not hurt to be a bit... gentler about it.”

Bruce sighed. “Alright. Noted. I have to go to Wayne Tower today. I’ll... I’ll try to talk to him before this party. At least he got out of that. Can _I_ get out of that?”

Now Alfred was looking at him as if he was the child. “No, Master Wayne. You _do_ have a reputation to uphold, and there are certain to be many lovely ladies.”

“I’m so excited.” Propping his chin on the heel of his hand, he brought the fork hard into the pile of pancakes. Maybe Jason was onto something with this idea of taking out aggression on one's breakfast.

* * * * * * * * * *

  
She slept through at least two thirds of the fifteen hour flight, but despite that and her otherwise excellent physical shape, Talia felt like she’d just gone hand to hand with twenty of her father’s best soldiers. Straightening in her seat as the plane began its descent, she looked out the window at the city below as it was lit up by the early morning sun. It was not unlike the desert; so full of both life and death. From here it seemed to shine, no traces of the corruption and decay she knew to be there.

From here she could see why _he_ loved it.

Stepping off the plane and into the busy airport, she pulled the small suitcase – she wouldn’t be staying long, after all – to her side and turned her wrist to check the delicate silver watch. Eight in the morning. There was plenty of time to make it to her loft in one of the city’s more affluent districts, maybe get a little more rest, and make herself presentable. There was a Wayne Foundation charity event tonight that would serve as an opportunity to reconnect.

An hour later, glancing out at Wayne Tower only blocks away and the rest of the city from the full-length windows of her loft, she laid out the dress, shoes, and other accessories for the evening’s festivities. Only the jewelry was left. Talia looked at the dresser where a wooden box lay open, revealing the ornate necklace that made her breath catch every time she looked at it.

Pointedly closing the lid, she chose a simple pendant of white gold instead.


	2. Part II

He would have rather been on patrol – that would be later in the night – or pretty much anywhere rather than in the middle of the crowded ballroom in one of Gotham’s most glamorous hotels. The planner of this particular party had suggested to him that wouldn’t it be lovely if they could hold the event at Wayne Manor. On rare occasions, just to maintain appearances, he agreed, but at the moment Bruce couldn’t be happier for his foresight to politely decline.

Especially considering the topic of conversation.

It wasn’t the fact that he was gone from Gotham for over a month. Things like that had happened before, and he always came up with some creative story about skiing in the Swiss mountains or vacationing in Dubai. No one seemed terribly surprised that Wayne Enterprises and all of its satellite companies ran smoothly. They must have assumed that Bruce didn’t actually have anything to do with the running of his company.

But that was business. Business talk he could handle. What he had trouble with – though of course he didn’t show it – was the volleys of questions about Jason. He'd already explained multiple times that he couldn't make it because he was visiting with Dick – a lie, but better than saying that the boy downright despised these people on principle alone – but that didn't stop the curious crowd. Some he could answer more honestly than others.

“What made you want to adopt again, Bruce?”

“Dick was off in college for a while, and the manor was feeling a little empty.” He admitted. “Timing felt right, and I thought I had more to give, so...”

“That's so nice of you.” The woman who spoke made it sound like he'd just donated to UNICEF instead of choosing to become responsible for another life. “And to take on such a... challenging child. I heard he won't be attending Gotham Academy.”

Again he could hear the question in the statement. Had the city's most prestigious private school refused to take his new foster son? “He wanted to go to public school. I don't see anything wrong with that.”

“Of course,” a man his teeth around a cigar spoke with absolute certainty. “Considering his background, it's for the best.”

 _I am_ never _bringing Jason to these things_ , Bruce silently vowed. _Never letting you vultures torment him._ Dick had been good at navigating these parties. Though not particularly good at lying – to him, at least – as a trained performer, he could play the role of spoiled rich boy as well if not better than Bruce himself. He had a feeling if he forced this on Jason, the disaster that followed would put every world-scale conflict to shame.

Not that Dick was overlooked in this inquisition...

“Has Richard met him?” A man about his own age asked. “How does he feel about it?”

“He's still in school, so it's not a huge change for him.” _Truth_. “He just keeps saying I should've done it when he was still living at the manor so he could've had more of a chance to be a big brother.” _Lie! Though God knows I wish it was true._

An older woman with pinned up hair cooed. “Richard is such a sweetheart. Is he still seeing Miss Gordon? If not, I know a few lovely....”

“I make it a point not to interfere in his love life,” Bruce quickly interrupted. Dick would thank him for this later. His audience chuckled.

“And your own love life, Bruce?” Another blond playfully hooked her arm though his. “I hope you still make time to get out and treat yourself once in a while.”

He played along and gave a somewhat exaggerated sigh as if he _hoped_ that was so, but alas... “I'd love to, but Jason has to be my first priority. You know how demanding kids can be.”

Actually this particular one didn't, which successfully made her feel abashed enough to let go of his arm. He took that as an opportunity to check his watch. Eleven o'clock. He could push this maybe till half-past midnight and then he'd make his excuses and slip out. Bruce almost felt sorry for any criminals Batman came across tonight.

“A testament to a man's character,” came an all-too familiar smooth accented voice. “To put one's child above all others.”

No one else in the room would have known it, but Bruce felt as if he’d just been gut-shot. He turned his head slowly, as if doing so would make her someone else, someone less painful to see. Talia was as breathtaking as ever, clad in a burgundy dress of satin with sheer off-the-shoulder sleeves that met at the center of the fabric creating a wide v-neck effect. Her hair fell loose about her shoulders, and she was smiling at him as if there was no one else in the room but still there was a hint of sadness in that smile.

“Thank you,” he managed. Bruce knew he was staring, but it worked for the playboy persona so he didn’t bother to correct it. Was he supposed to pretend he didn’t know her?

Talia took the choice out of his hands. One elegant eyebrow rose as if in question. “Are you not going to introduce me to your friends, Bruce?”

“Of course,” he straightened, recovering quickly. “Everyone, this is Talia al Ghul.”

He went around the small circle in the other direction. As always the very picture of propriety, the woman nodded and smiled and shook hands with each new introduction. The whole process took less than a minute, but it was a minute of running on autopilot during which he could think. What was she doing here? Two months since Qayin's defeat had passed without a word. He suspected it was for the same reason he hadn't reached out to her either even if the urge was almost overwhelming at times.

“How do you know this stunning young lady?” asked the man who had inquired about Dick.

 _She's my wife._

The thought came to him so suddenly and unexpectedly it left him reeling almost as much as her arrival. Why was he thinking of that now? Even for the brief time they'd been together in what she'd insisted was a marriage by the laws of her country, it never felt quite completely real to him. He'd played along because it made her happy,

“Oh, I'm sure we all know _how_ he knows her,” quipped another and winked at him.

Regardless of how well it played into this persona he had to put on or even the truthfulness of the statement, the way it was said ignited a spark of anger in him. Talia must have noticed but pointedly ignored it, choosing to instead answer the original question in his stead.

“Bruce has worked with my father in the past,” she explained. “They have known each other for quite some time, though have parted ways recently. A shame.”

Yes, he thought. There was next to no love loss between him and Ra's al Ghul, but their brief alliance had been one of the rare times Talia had not been torn between them. She'd been glad for the reprieve, and he for her happiness.

But happiness was fleeting.

The woman with the pinned up hair touched Talia's arm briefly to get her attention. “That is such an interesting name, my dear. Where are you from again?”

“A bit of everywhere, though my father spends most of his time in the Middle-East. I often accompany him, though I do not pretend to know the intricacies of all his businesses.”

All of her responses were nice and vague, and though Talia didn't play the air-head heiress card neither did she tip her hand about just how business-savvy she could be. Bruce knew of at least a dozen endeavors around the world run solely by her. He wanted to get her away from the crowd, to ask her about why she'd come, but the opportunity had yet to present itself.

The conversations had splintered. Talia was casually talking with the older woman about her dress, and he was half listening to what the man with the cigar was saying about a potential new satellite office in Star City. A server came around with a tray of champagne glasses a few moments later. There were plenty for everyone, but Talia was the only one who politely declined. The woman who he'd extracted himself from earlier put on a look of curious surprise.

“Oh, you don't drink? Is it... a religious thing?” She said it as if the words left a bad taste in her mouth.

 _It's a none-of-your-damn-business thing_ , Bruce thought at her. In hindsight, he wished he'd introduced Talia with the Anglicanized version of her surname if only to save her the look she was getting now. If it had come in any other setting, there might have been trouble, but she knew how to conduct herself in nothing less than the most proper fashion. Talia touched the tips of her fingers to her lips, pretending embarrassment.

“Not at all. I just stepped off of a fifteen hour flight, you see, and still quite a bit jet-lagged. As much as I would dearly love to enjoy the night to the fullest, I am afraid Mr. Wayne will have to carry me back to my room if I do.”

“Not that I mind,” Bruce grinned suggestively for the audience and picked up the glass that would have been hers. “But I'll take this off your hands anyway.”

Within another fifteen minutes, everyone was once again busy with conversation. Bruce still had a glass left. He'd slipped the second one onto a passing cart with barely a sip. No one but Talia had noticed, and she'd sent him an amused knowing smile. He gave an exaggerated yawn.

“I'm going to get some air,” he told no one in particular in the crowd.

A few acknowledged, and Bruce turned heading for the open doors of the balcony. The look on his face growing darker and darker until it was swallowed by the night outside. The cool breeze met him, and he unceremoniously dumped the contents of the glass over the railing before resting his forearms on it. The sound of soft footsteps came behind him, but he didn't turn, not until a gentle touch fell on his shoulder.

“Thank you, beloved.”

It took all his discipline not to jolt at the contact and the affectionate title he'd long ago come to take for granted. It was wrong, he knew. She didn't call him that lightly; she meant it. But at the moment he was too angry to analyze it further.

“They really don't have to bring out every 'rich American snob' stereotype,” he grumbled, more to himself than to her. “That was _highly_ optional.”

Talia's smile was gentle. “But then you would have missed the chance to defend my honor.”

Bruce scoffed. “I didn't do anything.”

“Yet I could see it in your eyes.” She came around and turned her back to the railing so they were almost face to face. He still couldn't quite look at her. “The anger for the ill-hidden slanders. They are but words, beloved. I am well.”

“Are you?” He finally turned his head, and she seemed to stiffen. There was little light out here, but he could have sworn she looked... pale. Talia tilted her head to the side as if considering how to answer him.

“In flesh,” she finally admitted. “Though I fear less so in soul.”

He regarded her. She was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on, but there was no denying the sadness and tiredness he saw in her eyes. Before this Bruce couldn't imagine anything could ever rattle her spirit, but losing the baby... he hoped it hadn't completely crushed her. At the moment he couldn't tell.

“I'm sorry, Talia.” It was all he could manage.

“I did not come for your pity, Bruce.” _Ouch. So it's 'Bruce' now?_ “I came because... because you deserved better than being pushed away at that unspeakably painful time. I came... I wanted to see you because I thought it might give us both some measure of peace.”

 _Closure._

She came for closure. He couldn't deny her that, not after everything, but somehow the request hurt more than if he'd found out she was in the city on Ra's' behalf. Bruce knew she wasn't lying about her intent, and that felt so very final. So very much like good-bye.

“How long are you going to be in Gotham?”

She tilted her shoulder in not-quite a shrug, and he noticed her necklace. It was pretty, but not the one he'd been however subconsciously hoping to see.

“A week. Possibly two. After that I must return.”

“Alright.” He could work with that. “So have breakfast with me tomorrow. Remember that French place we went to before? The chocolate crepes?”

She smiled for real at that and nodded. “I adore that bistro. Let us make it lunch. I _am_ still weary from the flight, and you will have a late night as well if the way you watched the clock earlier is any indication. The city calls to you. Who am I to keep you from your one true love?”

 _Damn._

If was frightening how easily she made him forget things.


	3. Part III

He slept in late – nine thirty – after a patrol that lasted until nearly five to make up for the time lost to the party. It was lucky for Batman the night had been fairly quiet, because Bruce could honestly say he had not concentrated well. The mental pocket required for him to become Batman kept getting intruded upon with completely foreign thoughts. It might have been nice if he could say that they were about Talia just as she was, but the truth was they were mostly of suspicion. He wished that was as easy to remove as the cowl.

Jason was in the kitchen glancing at the television every once in a while between shoveling scrambled eggs into his mouth. The screen had some kind of cartoons on that he was barely paying attention to. Bruce tried not to sigh. The thing about Jason was that he desperately tried to be the ‘normal’ child – a chance he’d been robbed of – that it often came out awkward. Anyone could tell he had absolutely no interest in the cartoons, but he watched anyway because he thought that was what kids did.

Idly, Bruce wondered if he might enjoy them more if there was another child in the manor to watch with. _No, don’t think about that now_ , he warned himself. _That future is gone._

The boy who was sitting in the kitchen looked up when he came in. “Hey. Late night?”

“You didn’t miss anything exciting.” Bruce reached for the coffee pot. He would tell him about Talia later... If he had to.

“Alfie left breakfast for you over there.” The boy nodded at the covered tray on the counter.

“It’s all yours.” He took a sip of the coffee. “I have a few errands to run, and then I’m meeting someone for lunch.”

Jason just shrugged. Bruce could have had any number of business-related lunch meetings even on a Saturday. But Alfred returned at that inopportune moment, and it took the older man less than half-a-heartbeat to figure it out. He looked critically at his clothes.

“You may wish to reconsider that tie, Master Bruce.”

Bruce stared, and now Jason looked interested as well. “Where’re you going? You got a date?”

Ignoring Alfred’s pointed look, he turned to the boy. “I’m having lunch with a woman who happens to be a friend of mine, yes. It’s not a date.”

“And is the young lady aware of this detail?” Alfred asked in such a way that made Bruce wonder how it was possible that he knew _exactly_ who he was going to see. He had no doubt that Alfred knew.

“She is,” he said pointedly. “It was her idea.”

Okay, the lunch itself was his idea, but it was Talia who had come for closure. People who dated didn’t do it for closure but for the hope of a possible future. Logic dictated that since this was not the case, the lunch was _not_ a date.

Still the tie landed discarded on the back of the kitchen chair.

* * * * * * * * * *

  
When she was a little girl, her father had told Talia she was special. Of course most fathers say that to their children, but when you were the daughter of Ra’s al Ghul, you grew up with a certain sense of entitlement. It wasn’t that she was spoiled, but Talia had simply always known that she stood apart from others. There were only two men in the world she could honestly say impressed her. She’d never thought about other women because... well, frankly she’d never know any other to do half of what she did.

But right now her opinion was undergoing some significant revisions, and suddenly she found herself holding the highest admiration and respect for all members of the fairer gender who chose to do _this_. Because no matter what she thought, like most women, Talia quickly found that she was not immune to the wonderful effects early pregnancy had on a woman’s body. Breathing deeply after washing her mouth out, she finally let go of the edges of the sink and looked in the mirror. Not a pretty sight at all, but luckily she had hours before the agreed-upon meeting.

Her hand fell on her lower abdomen, and she almost jokingly considered asking her child to let her have the one afternoon free of symptoms. But as soon as her fingertips came in contact with the bare skin, the hand jolted away as if shocked. Talia closed her eyes, this time not against the wave of nausea but sadness. People who talked to their babies did so with hope for that child.

She had no illusions that the life she carried would be hers to nurture.

In her own way, Talia mourned the loss of their child just as its father did.

* * * * * * * * * *

  
It wasn’t too busy on the early Saturday afternoon. The bistro was a few blocks away from Wayne Tower and the building that he knew her loft was located in. It wasn’t a recent discovery; Bruce made it a point to know these things. He arrived first, thought about ordering wine or an appetizer ahead while he waited, decided against it, and realized he was actually nervous. Absurd, considering he wasn’t a fifteen-year-old boy on his first serious date.

It was _not_ a date.

He was just looking over the menu without actually seeing anything when the click of heels on the concrete sidewalk made him look up. She must have decided to walk from the loft, and he had a moment to observe her as she approached. Bruce would have liked to say that it was just his detective’s instinct to note every detail, but the simple truth was he very much liked looking at her. Elegant black heels and knee-length skirt with a turquoise blouse gave her a simple classic businesswoman look, belying the fact that underneath it all was one of the most capable – and dangerous – women in the world.

Bruce rose – habit – but before he could extend her the courtesy of pulling out the other chair, Talia sat down smoothing her skirt as she did.

“Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon.” He sat as well. “How’re you feeling? Still jet-lagged?”

For a split second she looked startled then inclined her head slightly. “A bit, but much better overall. Thank you.”

There wasn’t a single part of him that didn’t absolutely hate this formality. What were they supposed to talk about? Not the League – hers _or_ his – not Ra’s and certainly not the lost child. And just like before at the party she came to his rescue.

“Last night’s charity,” Talia asked. “I made a small donation at the door, but I must confess I did not pay much attention to what it was going towards.”

‘Small donation’ from her meant at least a six figure number, but _that_ he could talk about.

“It’s a pool that provides need-based scholarships and funds for schools that need the extra help,” he explained. “Schools in poorer neighborhoods don’t get the money they need for supplies or teachers. Ideally it would come out of taxes, but the system is badly broken. At least this way the rich and powerful are forced into doing something every once in a while.”

“Then I am glad to have contributed.”

The waiter came with sparkling water and jotted down the order for appetizers. Taking the lead, Bruce ordered a tray with a beget, various cheeses and sliced meats, and a small side bowl of grapes. Talia surprised him a little when she requested not only the chocolate crepe but also a tart with freshly sliced apples. The look on his face must have given him away, because as soon as the waiter left, she gave him a mock glare.

“A gentleman never judges what a lady has on her plate.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to stare. I was just thinking...” He stopped suddenly, but despite his intentions it didn’t go unnoticed. The look she gave him was clearly encouragement to continue. Anything less would be construed as rudeness. Bruce sighed. “I was thinking Jason would love to eat nothing but sugar and junk food if Alfred didn’t watch him like a hawk. Sorry. I know it must... It hurts you.”

“No.” But even the smile she gave him was tinged with sadness. “My grief stands apart from your joy in this matter. On the contrary, I am glad you are not alone, that you have this boy. And Richard. How is he?”

“He...” Bruce swallowed. “We’re not exactly talking.”

“ _Still_?” She looked genuinely shocked. “Gods above, Bruce, you cannot be serious.”

“To be fair he’s not talking to me either.”

“And who, may I ask, is to be the adult in this matter? He has yet to see two decades of life, and you expect him to behave as one where you will not.”

He found it interesting that she defended Dick when Talia knew the former Robin was not exactly her biggest fan. It never seemed to bother her though. No matter what had happened between them, she knew Dick and now Jason were important to him. The thought that it was a quality that would have made her an amazing mother flashed through his head, but _that_ was something he definitely wouldn’t give voice to. It would hurt far too much right now.

“We’ll work it out,” Bruce said noncommittally. He hoped it was true.

“Alright.” She didn’t push further. “Then tell me of your other son. You spoke of Jason before we parted. Tell to me more now.”

He was quiet for a moment. It would have been so much easier to believe that she was somehow fishing for information to bring back to Ra’s and possibly use against him in the future, but he heard nothing but honest curiosity in her voice. She’d never met Jason, yet used the word ‘son’ as freely as the socialites last night. Except that when they said it, they somehow made Jason sound like a charity case. Coming from her it felt so... natural. She didn’t care because she knew the boy. Like with Dick, she cared because he did.

“He’s a great kid,” Bruce finally said. “Tough as nails and ten times as stubborn. Argues with me about _everything_ , whether it needs arguing or not.”

She laughed. “It appears you have met your match.”

“If not, then damn near close,” Bruce was also smiling. He liked this conversation, liked being able to brag about Jason.

Talia paused then carefully asked, “I understand he has had a... difficult childhood.”

“Very.” He nodded more grimly. “If it were me, I’m not sure I could’ve made it this far. It’s still an uphill battle, but we’re working on it.”

“Good. Life _can_ take root in tragedy.” She nodded, but her eyes seemed to drift.

“I think we can all do with a little _less_ tragedy.” He observed quietly.

The trays arrived then and they fell into a stretch of silence. Despite the earlier enthusiasm, he noticed she ate sparingly, and by the end most of the food remained. At that moment, Bruce could never remember feeling so guilty for what little happiness he had. She claimed that it didn’t bother her, but he knew better. The loss was devastating, but at least he had Jason and Alfred and – once they got back on track – Dick. Despite being surrounded by people, she had no one. He hardly expected Ra's to be a great source of comfort.

At the feel of his hand over hers, Talia raised her hazel orbs to him.

“It was _not_ your fault.” He held her gaze. “You know that, right?”

She took a deep breath and taped her temple with her free hand. “Knowing it in here, and believing it here,” the hand moved to cover her heart, “are two different things, Beloved. A woman will always hold herself responsible in these matters, regardless of whether you blame me or not.”

“I don’t,” he said quickly, but a terrible part of him couldn’t help but think, _I told her to stay out of the fighting!_

Bruce felt sick and looked away lest she saw it in his eyes.

Later, when the plates had been cleared away, he asked, “What are you thinking?”

She glanced around, taking in the bistro and the surrounding area. “I think this place is better than I recall, but perhaps tomorrow we might try something different?”

“Indian?” She wrinkled her nose, and, damn, but his first thought was that it made her look... cute. “How about Mediterranean?”

Nope, this was definitely not called ‘dating’.

Clearly Jason disagreed.

Bruce had parted ways with Talia in the late afternoon, and somewhere in the small reprieve between dinner but before he had to go on patrol, he found himself in the living room with the boy. They were attempting to go through the English paper – he felt bad for not even knowing it was on _Lord of the Flies_ until now – but Jason was clearly distracted.

After some less-than-subtle attempts at interrogation, he finally dragged out of him that he was planning on going out again tomorrow, specifically with the same person. As far as Jason knew, Bruce only dated for appearances, so two ‘dates’ in a row was raising red flags. He frowned and turned to Alfred who was nonchalantly dusting a cabinet.

“Hey, Alfie, do we like this chick?”

“Woman,” Bruce corrected. “Be polite.”

“Sorry.” He honestly looked apologetics but remained undeterred. “Who is she?”

“I told you: a friend.”

“Nah-ah.” The boy objected. “Mr. Kent is a friend. Zatanna is a friend. She does magic tricks when she comes over, and you have pictures with her from when you’re both little. Mystery woman whose name you won’t even tell me is not a friend.”

With a mixture of amusement and exasperation, Bruce looked at Alfred, but all he got in return was a look that clearly read, ‘See to it yourself, Master Bruce.’ He turned back to Jason, closing the book that lay between them.

“Alright,” he said carefully. “She is someone I care about... very much, but she’ll only be in Gotham for the next week or two. After that there’s a good chance we won’t see each other for a long while, so I’d like to spend as much time with her as I can right now. Does that answer your question?”

“No,” Jason glared at him. “You _still_ haven’t told me what her name is.”


	4. Part IV

Robinson Park was a tiny piece of nature buried deep in the concrete jungle that was Gotham. Talia could see some of what her beloved did in the city as a whole, but she could not honestly say she liked it. But the park was different, with its thick trees filtering out some of the air and noise from outside. On the late Sunday afternoon there were people walking their dogs, mothers with strollers, couples holding hands, and a general sense of peace in the air.

This place she liked.

A few heads turned as they passed by, but she chose not to respond, instead linking her arm in Bruce’s and edging a step closer. “I assume you are the one they are all staring at.”

“And the latest beautiful woman I’m seen with.” The corner of his mouth turned slightly. “Don’t be surprised if we’re the subject of some back page tabloid gossip tomorrow.”

“If such is the price I must pay for your company,” she gave an exaggerated sigh. “Honestly, it may be far simpler to consort with the Batman.”

Without missing a beat, Bruce put in, “I hear he’s too rigid.”

She laughed, but there was an undeniable grain of truth to his words. Her father had always insisted that Batman was the true face, and Bruce himself had implied as much in the past. But Talia could not help but think that the man she was walking with now felt every bit as real and solid as the one she had seen so often in the cape and cowl. And it was certainly not the cold white of the lenses she’d looked into on their wedding night.

Apparently sensing her tension, though he could not have known the reason, he cleared his throat. “Of course there’s someone who’s much more interested in you than any reporters.”

“Oh?”

“You came up in conversation last night.”

“Ah, and young Jason must be terribly concerned that his father is spending time with the wrong person. Or is it simply the first time he has known you to see a woman more than once?”

He looked like he was weighing his answer. “A bit of both. I think he might be a little... jealous. Which is...”

“...Entirely understandable.” She squeezed his arm. “He is a child. You have given him the first stable home he has ever known, but he has been with you for less than half a year. It is only natural that he wants nothing to compromise that.”

“Why does it have to be a compromise?”

The question was so honest, so without barriers, it left her weak. Her hand fell away. She stopped, and he with her. There was not a single part of her that didn’t ache to touch him, to a point where her hands went up but stopped just short of coming to rest on his chest.

“Because I cannot stay, Beloved.” She whispered. “You know that.”

“Do I?” She could feel his eyes on her, but Talia refused to look up.

“Do not do this.” She shook her head. “Do not turn every statement into a question directed at me. I am not you or my father. I do not like these riddles and mind-games the pair of you play, and I absolutely despise having to choose a side in them.”

“But you always pick his.” There was a note of accusation in his tone.

Talia’s back went rigid, and this time she did look directly into his eyes. “If I am to decide between being second to one man’s quest or another’s, how can you fault me for choosing my own blood?”

“I wouldn’t have made you second.”

It hurt more than if he had openly declared her father was the monster she knew he believed him to be. That was the age-old excuse that had always come between them, but this…

Her laugh was short and bitter. “Do not lie to yourself or me, Beloved. It is beneath you.”

Despite her best intentions and most likely his own, the single comment left the rest of the afternoon with a void between them. When they parted ways, Talia felt cold. Alone in her loft late in the evening as she got ready for bed, she wondered if coming to Gotham had been a good idea at all. It hurt to be apart from him those first few months, but it seemed that it hurt more to be here knowing it was not to last.

 _This was a mistake_ , she decided lying down to rest. _I shall depart by week’s end._

It was not a noise or light that awoke her, but a scent. Suddenly terrified when her now-especially acute sense detected the unmistakable odor of blood, Talia shot up into a sitting position. Heart pounding, she felt around the sheets then scrambled to reach for the light switch. Her greatest fear... If fate had seen fit to punish her lie by making it the truth...

But the sheets remained unstained, and when she finally caught her breath, Talia heard movement outside. Considering the loft sat twenty seven stories above ground with no balconies or ledges save the few inches around the windows, there was only a handful of people who could be outside with only one particularly likely. Still relieved – and annoyed as it was three in the morning – when she threw open the curtains to let be breeze and her unexpected guest inside..

“I am impressed.” She folded her arms under her breasts. “You managed to make it inside without setting off my alarm system.”

Her anger such as it was fell away as soon as he looked up. From under the cowl an angry bruise was beginning to blacken the visible part of his lower right cheek. Worse, he was holding his side, and even in with the only source of light from her nightstand and the city outside, Talia could see the blood dripping between his gloved fingers.

“What happened?” She asked more gently helping him down from the window and closing the curtains behind him.

The only response she received was a groan, and Talia carefully guided him to the edge of the bed, heedless of the blood and dirt that stained a path across the carpet. He was breathing heavily, but she got the impression that it was more from exhaustion than anything else. With some maneuvering, the heavy cape and cowl fell to the floor, and she was finally able to look at his face and cupped it in her palms. The glimmer earlier was in fact just part of one massive bruise that spread from across his cheekbone almost to the far corner of his brow as if some steel pipe had connected with his face.

“Stay,” Talia ordered and went into the bathroom emerging moments later with a role of gauze, bag of cotton balls, and a bottle of rubbing alcohol and hydrogen peroxide. Heaven help her, but she was an old hand at patching him up.

Once his boots and everything above the waist was removed, Talia went to work, doing her best to remain focused not just for his sake but to distract her from the smell. Fresh cuts and bruises mixed with old scars, but the worst of it was the roughly seven inch deep cut that wrapped diagonally around his side just below the ribs. Talia meticulously cleaned the area around it with the peroxide, then folded a strip of gauze into three layers and pored the alcohol.

“This will hurt,” she said before unceremoniously pressing the dressing against his flesh.

Anyone else would have screamed, but he took the pain with almost complete silence and gritted teeth. She unrolled a few more feet and began to secure the patch. Any bruised or broken ribs would also be held well in place by the tightly wound band. When she was satisfied with her work, Talia stepped back and looked down at him.

“Now, you will tell me what happened.” _Please do not lie to me again, Beloved..._

He took a breath. “The usual: two attempted robberies, an assault, and an attempted murder. Pretty quiet by Gotham's standards.”

She'd never hated this city more, but at the moment that was not her concern. “You mean to tell me that some... thugs did this to you?” He bit his lip, oddly uncomfortable. Talia planted her hands on her hips. “You were unbalanced then. Perhaps from our earlier... quarrel?”

“It happens. I'm fine.”

“If you were 'fine', you would have returned to your own home instead of coming to me.”

“Your place was closer.”

Talia wanted to slap him. This was one of the main reasons she realized that their relationship was not to be: when she was around, he constantly put himself in danger on her behalf. He'd been nearly killed protecting her from Qayin. Balancing the Batman and a normal family seemed all but impossible. Still he was so... hurt. Her heart softened.

“Lie down,” she instructed. “You may stay the night. Since you are here already, you might as well remain and spare Jason the worst of this sight.”

“I don't want to imposes...”

“It is a very large bed.”

* * * * * * * * * *

  
Bruce opened his eyes with the very first rays of the sun less than three hours later. The moment of disorientation quickly passed as memories of the night returned to him. The covers he lay atop were crisp and fresh, and when he turned his head slightly, he saw that Talia was still sleeping only a few inches away. There was nothing particularly compromising about their positions with him a safe distance and layer of sheets between them, but she was so close...

Slowly, doing his best not to disturb her or his injuries, Bruce rolled over to his side and really looked at her. It was so rare that he had the chance to study her like this, with her barriers completely down. Waves of long chocolate-brown hair were scattered about the pillow and her bare shoulders, the rest of her body clad in a flowing white nightgown, not unlike the one she'd worn – however briefly – on their wedding night. His eyes traced the lines of her long dark lashes, followed the curve of her neck and lips slightly parted in sleep, and though he knew he shouldn't, watched the steady rise and fall of the swell of her breasts.

She truly was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

Suddenly despite himself, Bruce frowned and forced himself to look at her with a detective's eye, without allowance for distraction. Something felt... off. He took in her body as a whole, unable to put his finger on the problem for a while before it finally hit him: she looked... soft. No man who had ever laid eyes on Talia could have called her unfeminine. Despite her combat skills, she had more than a few qualities he might have almost called girly. Certainly she'd always had curves. But a body that kept up with intense combat training was usually defined by lean muscle regardless of gender. Talia had always had that, but now...

He ran a featherlight touch across her bare arm, and the silky smooth olive skin beneath his fingers easily dimpled. When the touch reached her breast, she winced and shifted in her sleep. Bruce pulled back giving her room to awaken slowly. It took a few minutes, but finally her eyes fluttered open, and she focused on his face. Two fingers reached up to trace the stubble from his unhurt cheek down to his jaw, followed by a sleepy smile.

“I prefer you clean-shaven, Beloved.”

“I know.”

She sniffed. “I also prefer you free of morning breath.”

“Sorry. Forgot my toothbrush in the other utility belt.”

“Then it is fortunate for you I travel prepared. There is a spare in the bathroom.”

He didn't move but continued to watch her impassively. To the untrained eye, she might have appeared perfectly fine, even at ease, but he noted the very slight shallowness in her breathing as if... as if she was trying to fight back nausea. Bruce frowned.

“Are you alright?”

“Perfectly.” But her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. “Go wash.”

The bathroom was spotless which was unsurprising considering this was the first time she'd been in Gotham in well over a year. He turned on the facet and let the water run but didn't actually reach for anything for a moment. Bruce stared at his reflection. Was he imagining things? If he hadn't... He couldn't begin to put it into words. He waited for the anger to come...

It didn't.

 _Too many questions... Too many... emotions..._

He needed more information. Most of all he had to be sure.

When he emerged from the bathroom, Bruce had composed himself to the point where none of his racing thoughts showed. Talia was also up and dressed, this time in dark brown pants and a tan top. Her color appeared to return somewhat. She was picking up the scattered remains of of his costume but looked up when he reentered.

“I presume you have some civilian clothing with you.”

He nodded. “If you don't mind giving me a lift back...”

The Porsche pulled up to the front door of the manor less than a half hour later, but Talia didn't bother killing the engine. Bruce looked at the digital clock on the dashboard that read two minutes past six. It was a Monday, which meant Jason would be getting up for school any minute now. Alfred was no doubt already up making breakfast.

“Why don't you come in?”

She hesitated. “I do not think that is wise, Beloved. Your son...”

“...was curious about you, anyway.” He pointed out. “Come on. You patched me up and let me crash at your place. The least I can do is treat you to some coffee and breakfast.”

He tried not to be obvious about how carefully he watched her reaction to the offer, but after a moment of thought she complied and turned down the ignition. They both got out. As he predicted, Alfred was in the kitchen. The smell of coffee and maple syrup was in the air.

“Ah, Master Jason, just in time...” the old man started but stopped as soon as he turned and saw him. “Master Bruce! Thank heavens you're alright. And Miss Talia. How wonderful to see you again. You look lovely as ever.”

She smiled. “Thank you, Alfred.”

“I presume we have you to thank for bringing him back to us.”

Talia looked him over with a critical gaze. “He would have returned. Most likely.”

“My thanks nonetheless.” The butler inclined his head. “Would you care for some breakfast? The pancakes are nearly ready, and there is a fresh pot of coffee that just finished brewing. Or something else, if you prefer.”

She sat, looking a bit hesitant, almost uncomfortable. “Do you still have some of that wonderful herbal tea? As I recall it was divine. If it is no trouble...”

“Of course not,” Alfred looked pleased. “I am glad to see someone appreciates it.”

“We shallow Americans only recognize overpriced chain coffee,” Bruce quipped, but he didn't fail to take the mental note. He looked around. “Where's Jason?”

“He should be down any moment now.”

No sooner had he spoken then the rhythmic patter of feet could be heard running down the stairs. Obviously in no hurry to be ready for school, Jason jogged into the kitchen in the same gray sweatpants and over-sized shirt bearing a stylized devil logo he liked to sleep in. His hair stuck out at odd angles. He skidded across the hardwood floor of the hallway in his socks but came to an abrupt stop in the kitchen doorway. The boy stared, and a sudden silence fell across the room. Bruce cleared his throat. It was his house after all, so the introductions fell to him.

“Jason,” he looked at the boy. “This is Talia. Remember the friend I was telling you about.”

The woman rose, smiling politely. “A pleasure to finally meet you, Jason. I...”

“Yeah, yeah, I know who you are, lady,” Jason interrupted and snatched one of the pancakes from the tray much to Alfred's dismay. “You're the daughter of that Ra's al Ghul guy who thinks he's a world savior but really he's just another wacko terrorist. Oh, and he,” the boy jabbed his thumb at in his direction, “is way hung up on you. What?” He looked at Bruce. “You think I was down in the cave playing vid games?”

The man wondered about every possible way this meeting could have gone wrong and realized that all of them had just happened. Talia appeared too shocked to speak. Alfred was giving the boy a disapproving look to which Bruce added his own.

“If you're going to be rude, you can go back upstairs and finish... start getting ready for school,” he said pointedly.

“Pftt, gladly.” Jason didn't look too sorry.

When he left with Alfred only steps behind, Talia finally looked at him. “Charming boy.”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, we're still working on manners. I'm really sorry about that.”

“Why?” She asked coolly. “He only believes as you do, and your beliefs are nothing I am unaware of. I suppose I should be flattered that you remain 'hung up'.”

 _Oh, this just keeps getting better and better..._

He'd have to have a talk with Jason, but she was right. There wasn't any particular part about what he said that Bruce would have outright dismissed as false. It was just that 'subtlety' was not a word in Jason's vocabulary which didn't serve him in this case. When dealing Ra's, a certain amount of respect always helped. With Talia it was not just a cultural or gender given, but... well, Bruce would talk to him.

“Look,” he tried. “I didn't say anything is different suddenly.” _Except it might really be..._ “But you're only here for a short while,” _unless I find a reason for you to stay_ , “and I don't want to spend the entire time fighting.”

“Then are we to forget who we are?” she asked quietly. “Has that not always been the rift between us?”

“Yes,” he agreed. “But I think we can manage to set it aside for two weeks.”


	5. Part V

At Bruce's – and Alfred's – insistence, she drove back up on Tuesday evening for dinner at the manor. After the string of restaurants a home-cooked meal sounded like a good idea, and the chance to make another impression was also welcomed. There was a wrapped package in the passenger seat that would hopefully help with that.

Alfred met her at the front door, dutifully taking her coat. He glanced at the bag in her hands.

“You need not bring anything, Miss Talia.”

“Of course I did. Besides I bought this during my last visit to Morocco and thought you might enjoy it.” She produced the bottle of dry spices from the bag and extended it to the butler who took it a bit too gingerly. “The bottle is still sealed, and I am certain there is something in the cave that will confirm that it is not poison.”

“It never even crossed my mind,” Alfred said with a kind of stoicism she almost believed. “I'm afraid Master Bruce is currently finishing an unexpected meeting with a business associate, but please do come in. You can wait in the dining room if you like.”

She stepped inside. “Actually, may I speak to Jason? I have something for him as well.”

Alfred hesitated, and she could see he was considering if it was safe to let her see the boy alone. The mistrust was unpleasant but not unexpected. She did understand that given her history with Bruce, those around him might perceive her as a threat. Alfred had a self-appointed duty to protect everyone at the manor, especially the most helpless. Still, that he thought her capable of hurting a child...

“The third door up the stairs in the east wing,” he said finally. “He should be finishing his homework before dinner.”

Talia left everything downstairs and made her way up with nothing but the wrapped package in her hands. The door was slightly ajar, and she could see the boy sitting cross-legged on the bed with papers scattered about him. He did not look happy. She pushed open the door but knocked on the frame before entering.

“May I come in?” Jason looked up in surprise, then scowled, but said nothing. She stepped inside. “I have a gift for you.”

This time the scowl was more of a frown. “Why?”

“Because I am a guest in your home,” she explained patiently. “In my, and many other cultures, it is considered highly improper to enter a home empty handed.”

“Oh,” he seemed to accept that explanation and closed the notebook. “What is it?”

“Open it and see.”

He took the package from her and gingerly began to unwrap it. Talia watched with interest. Despite the boy's harsh words last morning and Bruce's implications that he had anger issues, she saw a gentleness in him. When the book below was unveiled, he frowned at it. Questioning blue eyes looked from it to her.

“It is a collection from _A Thousand and One Arabian Nights_ ,” she explained. “You may have heard of some. _Aladdin and his Magic Lamp_ , at the very least?”

“Yeah, they made a cartoon about it.” Jason made a face. “It was okay, I guess.”

“The original is better.” She assured him. “There are many stories you may like, about heroes who achieve victory not through strength of arms but through their cunning and wit.”

“Like Bruce.” Talia was pleased to see the ghost of a smile.

“And you,” she pointed out. “Not every hero is born a prince. Some must earn it.”

He flipped through the book with now genuine interest taking note of the etchings that served as illustrations. “Thanks.”

“You are very welcome, Jason.” She tilted her head and picked up the tattered paperback already on his bed. “What are you reading?”

“Oh.” He looked at the book with a lot less enthusiasm. “ _Lord of the Flies_ for English class.”

“I remember reading this one several years ago.” She turned over, registering slight surprise from the boy. “As I recall, it is quite... violent.”

Jason shrugged. “Doesn't bother me.”

 _No, you have no doubt seen worse_ , Talia thought, though it didn't make her feel any better. There was something about this boy that made her heart ache. His eyes held the look of someone who had seen too much, but deep inside she could just barely see glimpses of a child struggling to break free.

“It is about the worst of human nature,” she said finally. “About how far people can be pushed by fear.”

Jason didn't look impressed. “They're a bunch of snobby British school brats. What did they ever have to be afraid of?”

“Perhaps nothing.” Talia agreed. “Perhaps the island was the first time they had ever truly experienced fear which is why they were so susceptible to it.”

He seemed to turn that thought over in his mind, then bit his lip and looked up at her. “Can I use that? For my paper, I mean. My teacher said I could rewrite it for a better grade, and Bruce is making me.”

“Of course.” She smiled. “We can talk more about it at dinner, if you like. You _are_ joining us, are you not?”

The boy bit the inside of his cheek, thinking. “I wasn't going to, but if you don't mind...”

“Not at all. This is _your_ home, Jason. I am merely the guest.”

She thought he might apologize for the thoughtless comment from the day before, but it appeared that it would take more than a present and some civil conversation to soften him that far. Sadly there was no time for that.

“Shall we go see if dinner is ready?” she offered instead.

“It's not.” The boy shook his head. “Anyway, we're not going anywhere until Bruce finishes talking to Mr. Kent.”

Making her way downstairs in long deliberate strides, Talia found both men in the living room with absolutely no attempt to hide. Her beloved did not seem even mildly surprised, but the look on the Kryptonian's face told her he was definitely _not_ expecting to see the daughter of Ra's al Ghul in Batman's home. Ignoring the man, she turned a cool, even gaze on Bruce.

“Am I early, Beloved?”

It was immensely satisfying to see Kent's brows disappear into his hairline. Even more so when Bruce made absolutely no attempt at qualifying or explaining her question, instead simply answering without hesitation. “Not at all. Clark was just leaving.”

But the other man didn't look like he was in any hurry to go. “What's going on?”

“We're about to have dinner.” He explained calmly. “You and I can finish talking later.”

“Bruce...” His voice dripped with unspoken alarm and warning.

Something inside her snapped.

Talia could easily ignore the thoughtless comments from Gotham's high society; they were nothing. Suspicion from Alfred and Jason was expected. It was well within their right, and she even found it oddly endearing that they were so protective of Bruce, knowing that it was out of nothing but love for him. But this man... Talia walked forward in calm deliberate strides until both of her hands rested against the armrests of the chair he was sitting in. She leaned close, intentionally invading the man's personal space.

“Mr. Kent.” Her voice was pointed and cool. “The only reason there is not a barrel with a Kryptonite bullet pointed at your head at this very moment, is because I would never bringing a gun into this house out of the love and respect I have for the man you call 'friend'.”

He stared at her, blue eyes wide behind the false spectacles. She smirked. “I may not be the world's greatest detective, but I know enough to post 'Clark Kent is Superman' on every billboard from here to Metropolis. I am certain Alexander Luthor – who I know quite well – would be very much interested. Consider that the next time you turn your ill-informed suspicion on me.”

Kent slowly turned his head to look at Bruce who Talia could see from the corner of her eye, was trying to hide an amused smile behind his hand. Apparently having decided that the Kryptonian must have had enough, he stepped forward and nodded towards the front door.

“Let me walk you out.”

She was still angry by the time Bruce returned only a few moments later. The man himself seemed to be in a perfectly calm, albeit a bit apologetic. She crossed her arms.

“Neither of you will hear a single apology from me.” Talia tipped her chin proudly. “I do not appreciate his idiotic suspicions of matters he has no part in.”

“It's my fault.” Bruce stepped forward and to her surprise wrapped his arms around her. “The timing was bad. I thought we'd be finished before you got here.”

She couldn't help but relax slightly against him. “There has never been a single person in this house, including that oaf, that I have ever meant any harm. I can take a lot, Bruce, but constantly being treated as the enemy by association is daunting.”

“I know.” She was even more surprised when she felt his fingers in her hair stroking lightly. “I'm sorry. Forget about him. Let's go eat.”

* * * * * * * * * *

  
_Minutes earlier,_

Clark liked to think of himself a fairly intelligent person. His I.Q., for whatever that number was worth, was well above average, and he was definitely smarter than almost every super-villain he'd ever faced. But often times when he was around Bruce – who he considered to be one of his closest friends – he felt like he needed to go back to grade school.

At the moment, he was trying to understand exactly what he was doing at Wayne Manor.

It was not as if he had never set foot the mansion before, but Bruce was fiercely protective of his home and Gotham as a whole. It was generally understood among members of the Justice League that one didn't operate in the city without Batman's permission which he never gave unless circumstances were absolutely dire, and in that case there usually wasn't a chance to ask. He certainly never invited League members into his home as Bruce Wayne, yet here they were.

And this wasn't an emergency, just matters that bordered on bureaucratic, things that could have easily been discussed at the next meeting at the Watchtower. He was momentarily distracted from trying to figure out the real reason he was there by the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. At first thinking it might be Jason who he'd been curious about meeting for a while, Clark was, to put it mildly, shocked when it was Talia al Ghul who came into the room. Apparently she at least had been alerted to his presence; the woman looked more annoyed than surprised.

“Am I early, Beloved?” she asked Bruce as if he wasn't even in the room.

 _'Beloved'_? Of course he'd known that there was a history between his friend and the woman, but the title was so... intimate. And apparently completely not unexpected, because Bruce didn't even blink at it. “Not at all. Clark was just leaving.”

 _I am?_ “What's going on?”

“We're about to have dinner.” His friend was completely nonchalant. “You and I can finish talking later.”

“Bruce...”

Suddenly she was in front of him, somehow calm and clearly livid at the same time.

 _Bump-ba-bump-bump..._

 _What was..._ She was saying something about Kriptonite and bullets and billboards and... Luthor? Clark wasn't listening, at least not to her words. There was another sound in the room, like the beating of a heart. He frowned. It _did_ sound like a heartbeat but far too rapid to belong to anyone present. He tried to concentrate. Ninety? A hundred? Even more than that, it sounded like.

His eyes went wide, and he turned to Bruce just as his friend motioned for the door.

“Let me walk you out.”

It took him till they reached the foyer and out of Talia's earshot to formulate just what he was thinking. As it was he was still almost too stunned to speak. “Did you know she's...”

Bruce opened the door. “Don't.”

Clark stared at him. “But you _do_ know!”

“Yes. I want her to tell me.”

The corner of his friend's mouth twitched in an almost-smile, and suddenly Clark knew exactly why he was here. Feeling both amused and annoyed at the same time for being used like that, he looked directly at him.

“You knew I'd be able to hear the heartbeat.” It was halfway to an accusation, but he couldn't quite bring himself to be that. Not with something like this.

Bruce opened the door without so much an apology. “Good-bye, Clark.” But as soon as the door was opened, he paused. “How is it?”

He smiled in understanding. “Strong. Congratulations, my friend. And good luck.”

“Thanks. I'm going to need it.”

 _That's an understatement_ , Clark thought leaving Wayne Manor far on the ground below him.


	6. Part VI

If someone had told him this would happen yesterday, Bruce might not have believed it. He'd spent most of dinner in a dual role of both making idle conversation and silently observing Talia's habits despite already having confirmed his suspicions. The question that remained to him – about whether or not she actually knew she still carried their child – was answered as he mentally went over her behavior in the last few days: the refusal of alcohol or coffee, the lack of apatite, and apparent sensitivity to certain smells... That alone was enough for him to ask Alfred to prepare something more bland than what they usually had. It wasn't quite to his own liking, but she was eating well enough which was good.

But that wasn't what amazed him now. He'd have to confront her about this soon, but now his attention was taken up by watching her interact with Jason who had – to Bruce's own surprise – opted to join them for dinner. In fact she spent more time talking to the boy than him, mostly about _Lord of the Flies_. Alfred had noticed as well. The older man leaned in to speak to him in a low voice as he poured the tea.

“Remarkable!”

“That he's talking about the book or that it looks like he warmed up to her?”

“Frankly, both.”

Bruce couldn't help but agree. After desert, Alfred ushered the boy away to finish his homework, and for once Jason went without complaint. He looked almost... eager to make user of what Talia had suggested. When he was gone, the woman raised her eyes to Bruce from across the table.

“I am sorry you were neglected, Beloved. It was unintentional.”

“No, that was very educational. I still can't figure out how you got him to talk to you about school without getting defensive.”

She smiled. “Simple. He needn't speak often, but when he does choose to talk, you must choose to listen. It is really little more than asking a few leading questions.”

“I still think it's nothing short of a miracle. Didn't think to apply the Socratic method to a twelve-year-old. Where'd you learn that?”

Her mouth turned slightly. “My father.”

Mentally, Bruce winced. _So Ra's al Ghul is a better parent than I am. Great._

Both of their drinks were cooling now, and they made their way over to the library, talking about various charities and business ventures. He hoped she might say something about the baby, but she never did, and Bruce didn't lead to it. He truly wanted it to be her choice, if at all possible. Was that why she was really in Gotham? For some reason Bruce couldn't bring himself to be angry, to think that she had explicitly lied to him. Even before there was another life involved, he would have given almost anything to be with her.

Of course 'almost' was the operative word.

He wanted her – them! – not Ra's and his insane crusade.

 _Damn! Why can't it ever be that simple?_

 _Because he's her father_ , a voice inside his head that sounded terribly like Thomas Wayne chided. _She loves him. That love is a simplicity in its own right._

He closed his eyes for a moment, but it didn't go unnoticed. When he opened them again, she was looking up at him, an old tome in her hand. Bruce could just make out part of the golden inscription to see it was one of Kipling's.

“You are tired,” she said sympathetically. “I should go.”

“You don't have to. I'm not going to sleep, anyway.”

“No.” She agreed. “You are going on patrol. Dutiful as ever.”

She was right, of course. As soon as she left, he'd be headed to the cave and transform into Batman. He wondered why it was that every time he tried to do something that even hinted at a normal life, a normal relationship, she reminded him just how unconventional they both were. _Because she's tired of being hurt_ , he realized. _Tired of choosing._

But when she left with the promise to see him again the next day, instead of going down to the cave he went up the large staircase to the third door in the east wing. It was nearly midnight, but Jason was not asleep, merely lying in bed. Bruce was only a little surprised to see he was actually rereading the book.

“Going out?” The boy looked a little surprised to see him. He knew Bruce was about to go out on patrol.

“Yes.” He sat down on the edge of the bed. “Just wanted to see you first. You really behaved yourself at during dinner. I know it's not always easy for you, so I wanted to say 'thank you'.”

Jason shrugged as if it was no big deal. “She's okay. You know, for the kid of an evil villain.”

Coming from him, that was high praise. As if he'd discovered that someone he been sure spat fire was actually a human being. Bruce tilted his head slightly. “Do you like her?”

“I guess.” His lip quirked. “Obviously not as much as you do, though.”

“I do like her,” Bruce admitted. “A lot. Hopefully she'll be coming around more often. I want to make sure you're aware of it.”

“Yeah, that's fine,” Jason yawned.

“Alright,” Bruce patted the covers and rose. “I'll see you in the morning.”

“'Kay. Luck! Punch some bad guys for me.”

He also – discretely – checked on Talia on his way though Gotham's more affluent district. It wasn't much out of his way really. Not surprisingly she was sleeping. He allowed himself to linger for only a few moments before heading out again. He had a job to do and couldn't afford to be distracted, but the fact remained that he'd have to think of something soon.

On his way back, when it was a little after five in the morning, he checked on her again. To his surprise, the lights were on and bed empty, but before alarm could set in, he saw her walking out of the bathroom. She was wiping her mouth then tossed the towel somewhere behind the door before getting back under the covers. Her eyes were screwed shut, and she took several deep breaths before rolling over and turning off the lights again.

There wasn't a single part of him that didn't want to go to her, not for confrontation but comfort. To help her and hold her and assure her that it was alright, that she didn't have to go through this alone. But that would be taking the choice out of her hands. Aside from the fact that it would mean she didn't intend to tell him – a possibility Bruce didn't want but had to consider – confronting her may scare her into doing something they might both regret later. So he would wait, even if that meant watching her suffer in silence.

As sick as she'd been in the morning, he wasn't too surprised when she'd called later that day and canceled their lunch.

“Are sure you're okay?” Bruce held the cell against his shoulder. “I can...”

“You can do nothing, Beloved. Go. Take Jason in my stead.”

She sounded a little annoyed but mostly tired, and Bruce couldn't help but think how many other fathers-to-be were getting an earful from their expectant wives or girlfriends about how 'this was all their fault' right now. He imagined that no matter how tired those men were of hearing it, none of them would want to be in his position.

“Jason's at school,” he reminded her. “Let me come over. I can be useful.”

“No!” It came out as urgent, and his heart sank. “It is a minor irritation that is likely to pass by tonight or tomorrow evening.”

“Alright.” He tried to hide his disappointment. “Call me if you need anything.”

He closed the phone and put it down on his desk staring at it for a long time without actually seeing it. A minor irritation? That's what she called this? He was probably reading too much into it, but the words still hurt. Did Ra's put her up to this... deception? Bruce tried to recall their parting after Qayin's defeat. Having had centuries to practice hiding his emotions, Ra's was not the easiest person in the world to read, but he'd always been frank with Bruce, almost as if he felt deception was beneath them both. His grief for the loss of his grandchild and Bruce as a son-in-law seemed genuine. Had Talia hidden this from her father, too? If so, why?

There was only one person who could answer all this, and she wasn't talking yet.

When he came down from the study, Alfred was in the kitchen. Oh, but this felt so much like he was a teenager again knowing he was about to get lectured for some terrible wrong he'd committed. Who was he kidding? The old man probably knew already anyway. As Jason liked to point out, Alfred knew everything. He came in and sat down heavily on the barstool.

“I need some advice.”

* * * * * * * * * *

  
The title 'morning sickness' was grossly misleading. She didn't feel any better until mid-afternoon, and by then it was too late to call Bruce and reschedule the lunch. Maybe taking some time apart was a good thing, even if she would have to leave soon. In the back of her mind, Talia was starting to think that maybe her eating habits and excuses were not going unnoticed. Bruce's concern was touching, but it also made her worry that she was letting too much slip.

 _And if he_ does _know?_ she thought. _Would that really be so terrible?_

 _Yes,_ a voice prompted silently. _He will know you for a liar and will wish to keep the child._

 _This is bad? Then I can keep it as well. We can..._

 _It will cause a war._

As if on cue her telephone rang. Talia looked at the number, but it was marked as unknown. Cautiously she picked up the receiver.

“Yes?”

“Daughter.”

The call was not unexpected, but Talia had been hoping it would be later rather than sooner. She sank down on the edge of the bed, closing her eyes momentarily. “Good afternoon, Father.”

“I needn't ask where you are,” Ra's al Ghul said curtly. “Only why.”

“I...” She had to think, had to force her heart to stop racing. “I had to see him. To make the clean break, nothing more. My abrupt dismissal was... unjust. The loss... it was his just as much as my own.”

She could hear her father sigh on the other end of the line. Ideologies aside, he held a great deal of respect for Bruce. Talia hoped it was enough for him to leave her alone for the remainder of her stay. If only they were not at odds... How very different would all their lives be then.

“I share your grief, Talia,” he said after a long pause. “But it changes nothing. If he is not with us, he chooses to be our enemy. You know this.”

“Yes, Father.” She lowered her head, even if he couldn't see it.

“I am not without a heart, child,” he went on, his voice softer. “Make your farewells, but make them quickly. I expect you back by week's end.”

 _Week's end?_ It was heading towards the end of the day on Wednesday. Even though she knew her father considered the week to end on Sunday – most countries started the week on Monday and ended on Sunday – it still only left her with three and a half days at most.

 _Does it matter?_ That voice inside her head asked. _You intended to leave by then regardless._

“As you say, Father.”

“Good. I will see you soon. Be well, daughter.”

When the line went dead, she wanted to cry.

Or scream.

Or throw the phone against the wall and watch it shatter into a thousand pieces.

All the options sounded fairly viable, except maybe the crying. Gods knew she'd spilled enough tears already. No, they would be a waste of time. She had precious little left, and Talia would be damned if she spent it on that. Pushing herself up she walked swiftly towards her closet and threw the doors wide open. Something stunning was in order for the evening. _While I can still fit into it_ , she thought wryly pulling out a number that was somewhere between a summer and cocktail dress. _And heels. Let it never be said that Talia al Ghul is not a woman._

She was not the only one who thought so. When the door of the manor opened, even Alfred's inflatable British stoicism was broken slightly. Bruce didn't even bother to hide his surprise and obvious pleasure giving her a very much appreciative look.

“What did I do to deserve this?”

“I haven't the faintest idea,” Talia raised a brow with coy innocence. “But it must have been very good.”

“Obviously. I take it you're feeling better?”

“Much. In fact, we are going out tonight, and I will personally ensure your tabloid reporters have something to gossip about.”

“Are we now? What did you have in mind?”

Her green eyes sparkled. “Do you dance, Mr. Wayne?”


	7. part VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> R-rated chapter alert! Just thought I'd give you a heads up. There will be a few more of these a bit later. Considering the depth of feelings between them, I feel I can't quite express that without at least a few semi-explicit scenes. This one is probably a bit tame compared to what's up ahead, but the story is in no way going to become smut.

To tell the truth, Bruce didn't particularly liked dancing. He could, of course, but somehow in his head it had become so associated with his clueless playboy persona and the women he'd gone out with just for show that he'd grown to nearly hate it. He'd been more than willing to go though, not so much for himself but because Talia seemed so happy and unburdened. He wondered if it meant she'd finally decided to tell him.

And, okay, it was kind of fun to watch the people gawk at them.

The place was not really a club in the sense of ridiculously loud music and copious amounts of alcohol. Dick had told him about some of those places he'd visited with his Teen Titan friends, Wally West and Roy Harper, at which point Bruce had frowned and asked the teen if he was drinking. Dick had just rolled his eyes. This place did have some drinks but most came in the caffeine variety – though there were other kinds – and the music switched between Latin beats and exotic Middle-Eastern rhythms. Combined with the sight of the woman beside him, it made his pulse race.

Talia was looking around in obvious approval. She garbed his hand. “Come, Beloved. The dance floor calls.”

“I'm not really sure...”

“Come on!”

Alright, so this kind of dancing he didn't mind. He didn't mind the feel of her dress and skin under his fingers, the smell of her hair as she moved to the music. The beat was hypnotic, Talia's body moving in perfect sync with it. His hands drifted lower to settle on her swaying hips while her arms wrapped around his neck. He breathed in deeply and allowed himself to thread his fingers through her hair.

“Nice perfume,” he whispered and felt her smile.

“It's just shampoo.”

Bruce figured as much, given her current sensitivity to smells. It was the reason he hadn't worn cologne. He wondered if she'd noticed.

“Wear it again next time?”

She pulled back a little, enough to look him in the eyes. Green met blue. “Next time?”

“Next time I see you. You said you were going to be here for two weeks,” he reminded her.

Some of the excitement seemed to drain from her. Her movement slowed, loosing the tempo of the beat until they were just slowly swaying together. They must have looked completely out of place next to the other rapidly moving couples.

“I said one to two weeks.” She brushed back a strand that had come loose from her ornate clip. “And... it seems like it may be closer to one.”

“Why?” Bruce frowned until it hit him. He made a face. “Ra's.”

Talia nodded. “My father expects me back by Sunday evening at the latest.”

He let only part of his displeasure show. It would not be unexpected for him to be unhappy about her leaving on Ra's' orders, but he couldn't let it be known just how much. So she was _not_ planning on telling him? She certainly looked like she was ready to once again follow her father's commands. Still...

Almost on impulse he took her hand and lead her away from the dance floor. She must have thought he was angry, but when they were sufficiently hidden by shadows, away from too many prying eyes, Bruce spun her around, caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger, and kissed her, deeply and throughly. His index finger skimmed the edge of her jaw, and after a split second of hesitation, Talia surged up on her toes, contributing her own passion to the kiss.

God, but he missed kissing her. It felt like it lasted forever, but neither could get enough. Eventually the need for oxygen won out though. Talia sighed, and he pressed his forehead against hers.

“What are we doing?” she whispered breathlessly.

He pressed his lips to hers again, this time only slightly more chaste. “Not wasting time.”

“It is no good, Beloved,” Talia shook her head emphatically. “This will not help. Will not make the parting any easier for either of us.”

“There's _nothing_ ,” he stressed the word, “that'll make it easier. Except... not leaving?”

She sighed, only a little in exasperation, and tucked her head under his chin. Her nose touched against his Adam's apple, and she pressed her lips against his collar bone, exposed as his shirt came unbuttoned at the top. It was supposed to be a gesture of comfort, not seduction, but Bruce felt the heat shoot through his entire body. Still when she pressed against him, her arms were bent at such an angle as to create a barrier between them. He could feel her fingers, hands, arms, but not her body.

It felt circular. Didn't they have the same argument at the park and countless times before? Except that back then he didn't know what he knew now. Even without that knowledge, having her here and knowing he would have to let go was painful. It was painful every time, but how could he possibly do it again?

Before he could think further, Talia was kissing him again. Well, this was not exactly the reply he'd been expecting, but it was infinity better than fighting again. She must have been as sick of it as he was, probably more so. She was still not letting their bodies touch as they should have, but her mouth was oh, so warm and sweet. When they finally pulled apart again, Talia licked her lips. Whatever hint of lipstick she'd worn was long gone.

“What time is it?”

Not understanding the point of the question, Bruce turned his wrist over anyway. “Only ten thirty. Why?”

“Because that means I have you for merely another two hours at the most.” She took his hand and entwined their fingers. “Just how far did you intend to take this... conservation of time?”

His eyes went a little wide. “How far will you let me?”

“Out of this club...” And there was that coy smile again.

“To the manor...” Her free hand traveled to the nape of his neck.

“Up the stairs...” Long fingers threaded through his hair.

“And then...” He could feel her breath against his lips. “Be with me.”

There was far too much hurry. He would have much preferred to take his time, but that would have to be later. It was half-wonder how they managed to make it back, even more that someone up there liked him enough that they didn't run into Alfred or worse Jason. The manor was already dark, and when they reached the master bedroom, Bruce slid his hand against the wall for the light. Talia caught his fingers just as they reached the switch.

“Leave it off,” she whispered between kisses.

Bruce complied. At that moment he would have probably done anything she asked. It took them seconds to rid one another of clothing – he was incredibly grateful for the simplicity of her dress – and then they were both falling. He regained his bearings first, but only a split second later Talia was hooking her calves around his, using the remainder of their momentum to flip them over so that he was on his back and she on top, straddling his hips.

He was more than happy with this position. He would have known her body by touch alone with ease. There was no artificial light, but outside the window the moon was half-full, and the curtains had not been drawn all the way. Some of the silver light managed to seep in. It played on her skin, turning every valley and curve into a source of the most beautiful shadows he'd ever seen. Unconsciously, Bruce licked his lips and grinned.

He must have had quite a look on his face, because above him, Talia tilted her head, followed by matching gestures from her shoulders and – oh, God... – her hips. In the minimal natural light her eyes looked almost black with passion.

“ _I_ am in charge tonight.” Her palms planted squarely on his pecs for emphasis.

“I'm good with that.”

He surged up to kiss her, his hands making their way up along her sides. But as soon as his thumbs brushed the underside of her breasts, she immediately clasped his wrists and settled them back on her hips. Bruce filed that under the 'to be analyzed later' category. There was no time for that now, anyway. They were both reaching that threshold when simple touches were not enough. Before he could ask, she sank down onto him with a breathless sigh.

There were no more words then.

Later, watching her sleep under the enormous white comforter, Bruce couldn't help but marvel at how absolutely _right_ this all felt. He had to admit there was room for improvement; he didn't at all like that there were restrictions on seeing and touching her because she thought she had to keep the pregnancy a secret. When they both came it was... good, but their month together in the Middle-East proved that it could be oh, so much better.

He chuckled softly, running a finger along the bare flesh of her arm. If only Talia was privy to his thoughts right now... He could just see her rolling her eyes. _You are thinking with the wrong head, Beloved_ , she'd accuse. She'd told him as much during their first night together.

 _Just once, let yourself go. And take me with you._

Well, Bruce figured he was allowed to every once in a while... with her. The detective part of his brain was really not necessary for this. In fact, he was pretty sure it impeded a happy, healthy sex life. Of course that was when he just had to look at the clock.

Twelve twenty-seven.

Bruce sighed, pressed his lips against her shoulder, and began moving out of bed. Still despite his care, Talia moaned softly and rolled over. The comforter slid down to reveal quite possibly the most perfect breast he'd ever seen, crowned with a large dark areola. Her lashes fluttered for an second and her eyes came half-way open. _Lashes... eyes... breasts..._ Those were getting filed under 'things in need of very close inspection'. She smiled dreamily.

“Since this is your house, should I not be the one sneaking out?”

He smiled too and walked around the bed to kiss her lips. “It's only twelve thirty. Stay and go back to sleep. I'll see you in the morning.”

“Mhmm.” Talia sighed, burring her half of her face into the pillow. She was asleep again almost immediately.

* * * * * * * * * *

  
As soon as she woke up, sick again and definitely not in her own bed, Talia knew she was in trouble. She was just lucky there was an enormous bathroom adjacent to the master bedroom, and even then she just managed to reach the bathroom, but not the toilet. Not that there was anything in her stomach but some water and bile, but it felt awful. There was a small reprieve in which she had a chance to throw on her dress before another wave hit.

Silently she cursed letting her hormones and anger as a result of her father's call get her here now. What was she thinking! Belay that: she hadn't been thinking, not with the part of her anatomy located in her skull, anyway. The bed was empty – she had a vague memory of Bruce leaving out on patrol soon after – but the room showed all kinds of signs that made her blush. She looked around, finger brushing her hair as best as she could. What time was it? When did he usually return?

Apparently she was not the only one who had the same thought. Just as she was contemplating looking for a clean toothbrush, Talia heard the door to the bedroom open. Judging by the slow cautious footsteps, it wasn't Bruce. Grabbing a white robe – the haphazardly tossed on dress would not do – she walked out. Jason stood in the doorway to the hall, his eyes scanning the room, but he stopped when he saw her. He blinked.

 _No, this not awkward at all._ Talia cleared her throat. “Good morning, Jason.”

“Umm... morning?” He was frowning. “Where's Bruce?”

“Patrol still, I imagine.” She tightened the sash. “Can I... help you?”

“I was trying to find Alfred. He's not around for some reason. It's weird.”

He was still looking around the room, and Talia had the strongest urge to usher him out but it would probably look even more suspicious. Besides it was soon too late. She watched the look on the boy's face transform from confusion to realization to amusement. Suddenly he was laughing. Talia wished for some magical force that would make her invisible.

“Oh,” Jason laughed. “I get it.”

Inwardly she sighed, but seeing that embarrassment was pointless, Talia gave him a little mock glare. “Precocious child.”

The boy was still getting out a few giggles, but managed to ask. “What's 'precocious'?”

“It means you are far too smart for your own good,” she explained pointedly. “Do you always do this?”

“Ah, he doesn't bring other girls here.” Jason made a spinning motion with his index finger indicating the room. “Not like this.”

Was it wrong that she felt a thrill at hearing this? Of course, Talia knew that her beloved 'dated' to maintain the empty-headed playboy persona. She had never felt particularly jealous of those women because she knew they meant nothing to him. If anything, her envies lay with Gotham City as a whole and the time and effort he put into it as Batman. Still, it was good to know he had not been intimate with others... most likely.

She cleared her throat again. “This is not an appropriate topic for a boy your age.”

Jason rolled his eyes at her. “Lady, I'm twelve. And 'm _not_ stupid.”

“I never implied that.” Talia looked him directly in the eyes to make her point. “In fact, I think you are quite intelligent. However, that does not make this conversation age-appropriate.”

“Whatever.” Thankfully he seemed to loose interest in it anyway. “Since you're here anyway, want some breakfast? Al's not here, but we have cereal and milk in the fridge.”

It sounded safe and neutral. “That is very hospitable of you. I will be down shortly.”

Jason looked between her and and the bathroom as if just realizing she'd come from there. Then he shrugged. “Okay.”

The door closed behind him, and Talia blew out a breath, not quite knowing if she should still be mortified or find the whole thing funny. At least the boy seemed to like her enough to be amused himself. She supposed it could have been worse. The lack of anger was half-way to being a stamp of approval.

 _Do not be too comfortable_ , she warned herself. _You must return within a few days._

She was dressed to her satisfaction a few minutes later and came downstairs. Jason had pulled out a box of mixed cereal with pieces of dry fruit, carton milk, spoons, and bowls, but they remained empty. He was fiddling with the coffee machine on the counter. Talia took the initiative and poured the cereal for them both.

“Do you not have school today?” she asked sitting down.

“Yeah, but I don't have a ride. Guess Bruce will take me when he comes back. Or Al, if he gets in first. Wonder where he is.” He scowled at the machine that seemed to refuse to cooperate.

“I do not want coffee, Jason.” She tried. “Come eat your breakfast.”

“ _I_ want coffee.” He pouted but went over to the table. She had already added milk to her own bowl, so he took the carton. They ate in silence for a few moments until the boy spoke again. “So how long are you staying?”

“A little while.” For some reason, she didn't want to give him exact days.

“Okay.” Jason chewed thoughtfully. Talia waited for him to say more, but he didn't.

She tilted her head slightly. “Does this bother you?”

“No.” He shrugged. “You seem okay, and Bruce likes you. A lot! He's been... you know... happier the last couple of days. Not like when he got back from... wherever he was for a month.”

“Oh?” She tried not to sound too curious, knowing exactly what had transpired.

Jason nodded. “Yeah. I mean, he was just really quiet. Not so much angry, just... kinda sad. I could tell.”

 _He was in mourning_ , Talia thought. _Still is. Over a life he believes lost due to nothing more than my deception_. Guilt rushed through her. Jason looked a little uncomfortable at her silence. He quickly finished his cereal and got up to dispose of the bowl in the sink before going back over to the coffee machine. She gave him a suspicions look.

“Should you _really_ be drinking coffee?”

“No,” came a voice from the doorway. “He shouldn't.”

Talia glanced up to see Bruce, now in normal civilian clothing, standing in the doorway. He must have just come up from the cave because he still smelled of that cold dampness. Walking inside, he pointedly moved the machine away from Jason and unplugged it from the wall for good measure.

“I didn't realize I had to child-proof this house.” He gave the child a look.

“Hey, I stay out of the cave when unsupervised!” Jason protested. “Coffee maker's not exactly on the same level as some of the WMDs you got down there.”

“Except that you're not allowed to have it yet. Done with breakfast?” The boy nodded. “Go get ready for school then. I'll drive you.”

“Fine.” He started for the door but then waved at her. “See you later.”

“Bye, Jason.” When he was out of earshot, Talia smiled at Bruce. She felt proud of herself for some reason. “Not quite a first name basis, I admit, but better than earlier by far. I believe we have just made progress.”

“Good.”

He was looking at her a bit oddly then, to her slight surprise, bent down and kissed her. If Talia thought there would be awkwardness between them, she'd been wrong. The kiss was somewhat chaste but sweet. It left her with a slight sensation of stubble burn, and when they parted she ran her fingertips across his cheek. He hadn't shaved since the previous day, and it was showing.

“That's good.” He repeated. “Will you stay, then? For the rest of the day.”

She was about to respond that she could not, that they had been over this, but then the last part of his request caught up to her. Just the day? She could do that much. With so few left, what did she have to lose? Talia smiled and nodded, kissing him once more, heedless of the stubble.

“For the remainder of the day. Yes.”


	8. part VIII

Jason kept giving him funny looks on the way to school which Bruce for the most part ignored until he stopped the black Infinity at the curb in front of the building. At that point curiosity took over.

“Alright. Out with it.”

The boy laughed. “That’s supposed to be my line.”

 _Oh... Oh!_ He scowled. “You didn’t bother Talia this morning, did you?”

“Nah-ah! I was _ridiculously_ nice! It’s not my fault you didn’t lock the door to and from your extracurricular activities.”

Bruce felt a headache coming on. “You shouldn’t have been snooping in my room. What were you doing there, anyway?”

“Looking for Al, but I guess you sent him on some super secret mission.”

“There’s no secret.” It was only half a lie. “He just went to pick up something from Leslie.”

“Oh.” Jason’s expression changed to thoughtful. He liked Dr. Thompkins, who had given him a full physical when Bruce first took him in and caught him up on all the immunizations he was behind on. Jason had protested that he didn’t need them, but Leslie’s patient and kind demeanor won in the end. “Who’s sick?”

“No one.” That was true enough.

 

“So what does he need to pick up?”

Bruce sighed. “Did it ever occur to you that you might _not_ need to know everything?”

“No,” Jason relied unabashed. “You told me a good detective should try to know as much as possible about all kinds of stuff.”

“I did say that.” He admitted. “I also said you need to try to do better in English lit. We’ll talk later, Jason. Go or you’ll be late.”

On the drive back to Wayne Manor he wondered just how that particular conversation would go, though he knew he should have probably been thinking about how he and Talia would be talking. Despite last night, she’d shown no intent not to follow Ra’s’ instructions to return. As far as Bruce knew, he had till the end of the week, and time was running out. It was already Thursday. He’d give her till the end of the day tomorrow, he decided. Then they would talk... no matter what.

Her car was still parked outside when he pulled up the long driveway, but when he came in, Talia was in the foyer, coat and keys in hand. Bruce gave her a curious look.

“I thought we were spending the day together.”

“We are.” She confirmed. “But I must go to my loft first. I need a shower...”

“You’re more than welcome to mine.” He tried not to make it sound suggestive, but could tell from the amused look on her face it didn’t work.

“Beloved, I need... feminine items.” She sounded like she was trying to explain it to a little kid. “Including clean clothes and shampoo that does not smell like... you.”

“I’m not sure if I should be offended.”

She laughed. “You liked the one I used last night.”

“I liked a lot of things about last night.” This time the suggestiveness was completely intentional, and... was that his imagination, or did Talia actually blush? “Actually I should probably drop by Wayne Tower anyway and remind them of my existence. I can meet you at your place, or you can come there after you’re done if you like.”

“You are welcome to come to the loft.” She smiled. “Shall I keep the door or window open?”

“Daytime, so the door. Just leave the key on top of frame. I know it’s the middle of the day and a safe area, but it’s Gotham so you never know.”

She arched a brow. “Do you actually need a key?”

“Point, but I don’t usually break into people’s apartments in the middle of the day either.” Bruce kissed her lips on her way out. It couldn’t be stated enough how much he liked doing that.

He finished the business at the office quickly. Coming there always had the guaranteed effect of reminding Bruce why he preferred to get most of his work done from home. Still it was a really good idea to show his face at the tower every once in a while. He wondered how many people there actually knew he worked rather than live off of the trust fund and parties. Lucius Fox was certainly one. They discussed a few transactions and contracts for about two hours, before Bruce checked his watch pointedly.

“Oops,” he said apologetically. “Sorry, I gotta go.”

“The lady friend from last week’s charity?” Fox asked as if he knew the answer.

“How’d you know?”

“Everyone’s been talking about the two of you,” his friend told him. “Word is you looked quite serious at the party.”

“Yeah.” Bruce rubbed the back of his head in a gesture he knew made him seem almost boyish. “She’s a classy lady. Way too good for me, but I like a challenge. See you later, Lucius.”

As much as the idea of Gotham’s high society talking about Talia behind their backs annoyed him, the more he thought about it on his short walk to her building, the more Bruce decided that maybe it wasn’t so bad. Because he might have come to know her as Batman, but if they were to have any kind of long-term relationship it would have to be as Bruce Wayne.

Bruce pushed his hands into his coat pockets as he took the elevator up to her floor, thinking. Of course he should probably not be making any kind of plans until everything was out in the open between them, Bruce knew. The road ahead was bound to be hard enough without her being mad at him for that, and it was unfair. No less unfair than her not telling him that their child still lived, but that would be addressed soon enough. He reached her door and swiped the key from the frame.

“Talia?” He called, pushing the door open.

“Yes, Beloved. A moment, please,” came her voice from another room. It took less than that, and when she finally came out it was in a pair of jeans and form-fitting red shirt. It was a good color on her. She was fiddling with the clasp of an earring. “Is all well at the tower?”

“Yeah. And only one person asked me who I was this time,” he quipped.

“Amusing. Do they also wonder how so much work gets done without most of them having to lift a finger?”

“Wayne Enterprises hires smart people.” He grinned. “People smart enough not to be interested in poking around the personal life of their air-headed playboy boss.”

“Playboy?” She pressed her lips together as if to even out the touch lipstick there. “Interesting. Because Jason claims you are not in the habit of bringing women to the manor.”

“Is there a question in there?” He asked innocently.

Talia rolled her eyes, somehow making the gesture of irritation look seductive. She was too proud to ask outright, and he supposed he should probably just tell her there hadn’t been anyone else in the months since their parting. It would save her the turmoil, but there was just enough of an element of perverse fun in it for him not to say anything.

Yet.

In an apparent attempt to hide – or demonstrate – her annoyance, she walked back in the other room, presumably for another accessory. Left alone, Bruce surveyed the room with minimal interest but with the attention to details befitting his reputation. Not that there was anything to find even if he was looking for something. What would it be, anyway? A letter with a declaration of love and intent to stay with him forever? _Right, and Ra’s al Ghul is about to walk through that door and proclaim himself a pacifist. Any second now..._

“I was thinking,” her voice from the other room snapped him out of his thoughts, “that I should like to accompany you on your patrol of the city.”

“What?” Bruce was sure he’d misheard her. He must have.

“I said I would like to accompany you on your patrol tonight.” She repeated, coming out. She was fastening a necklace.

“I heard you,” he said darkly. “No.”

Talia frowned. “Why ever not?”

 _Because there’s no way in hell I’m putting the mother of my unborn child in that kind of danger._ “Because it’s my city and I said ‘no’.”

If looks could kill, he was pretty sure he’d be dead right there and then. The gentleness from earlier turned to venom within a blink of an eye.

“Is that your final word?”

He turned to the window so he wouldn’t have to look at her. It felt cowardly. “Yes.”

“I remind you that I am not Jason or Richard.” Finished with the clasp, Talia planted her hands firmly on her hips and glared at him. “And you are _not_ my father; do not act like him. You cannot tell me ‘no’ and expect me to obey without so much as an explanation.”

 _Of all the things a man doesn’t want to hear..._ He turned finally. “I don’t want you hurt.”

She rolled her eyes, but her expression softened. “Beloved, I am sure you would let no harm come to me. I have faced far worse...”

“I know you have,” Bruce interrupted, taking a few steps towards her. He ran his hands up and down her arms in hopes of reveling some of the tension he felt there. “I know you’re more than capable. But the thing with Qayin... it scared me. I don’t want to feel like that ever again.”

No matter how honest it was, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. She stiffened under his touch and nearly reeled back. “You _do_ blame me!”

“No!” _Why is she still pretending?_ “No, no, absolutely not!” _Why is she even bringing this up?_ “Look, it’s been a quiet few nights. Why don’t we both stay in? Watch an old movie and do something blissfully boring and quiet? It’ll be a nice change.”

“Should I be flattered that you would sacrifice one night of patrol rather than let me see your precious city?” His attempt to pacify was met with another glare.

“Talia…”

She sighed, rubbing her forehead as if an in attempt to clear her mind. “Apologies, Beloved. Gotham is your protectorate, and I shall honor your rules and put my petty jealousies aside as best as I can. Though I honestly do not understand why you will not allow me to come.”

He searched her face, holding her gaze hard. “Don’t you?”

“No.” If he didn’t know better, he would have easily believed her. “Not if you honestly trust my capabilities. You are planning on making a twelve-year-old boy your field partner...”

The headache from earlier was threatening to return. How did this conversation spin so far out of control so fast? “Not any time soon. He’s training...”

“There is not enough training in the world that will turn that child into Richard Grayson,” she accused. “You know...”

“Oh, hey, new topic...”

“...that is unfair to both of them.”

There were so very many other things that were unfair, but it looked like they were both experts at avoidance. Bruce would have gladly donned the cape and cowl and faced every single inmate in Arkham if it would magically clear the air between them. She must have come to the same conclusion though, because all the fight seemed to go out of her and the next thing he knew she was pressing against him, actually wrapping her arms around his torso instead of using them as barriers like she’s done so often lately.

“I am sorry, Beloved. I do not know what came over me. That was cruel.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

He felt revealed and hugged her as well. The response came easy, probably because no matter how much he wanted to deny it, there was an unmistakable truth to her words.

* * * * * * * * * *

  
The rest of the day was amicable, mainly because Talia had taken extra care to watch her emotions. She couldn’t believe she had actually said all that and had no doubt hormones were to blame. Again, it was one of those things she had read about but didn’t actually think it would apply to her. Because she was Talia al Ghul; something that was currently roughly the size of a prune certainly did _not_ control her.

Right.

Bruce seemed readily forgiving, though there was something about his reaction that nagged at the back of her mind. It wasn’t how quickly he’d let it all go – though the issue with Richard was something she might have pushed more on if there was time – but something else, something more to do with his adamant refusal to take her with him on patrol. She knew he was territorial of the city, but it was ridiculous.

But she had to admit the day was nice. Late in the evening, after dinner, he’d done exactly as promised. They’d moved into the screening room, and Bruce put in _Casablanca_. At first Jason looked like he thought about joining them, which she didn’t mind. He looked at the movie case over Bruce’s shoulder and seeing the black and white cover, groaned.

“You’re watching _Zorro_ again?” the boy made a face. “It’s depressing.”

“It’s not depressing,” Bruce looked honestly surprised.

“Is so in the version that plays in your head,” Jason accused.

Privately, Talia was impressed. She might have said as much – albeit, slightly more gently – if that had been his real choice. Jason, it seemed, was both good at reading people and not afraid to cut through the barriers, even those of Batman. But not wanting to take part in another fight, she stepped forward.

“It is not _Zorro_ ,” she told the boy, “but another old movie. Have you heard of _Casablanca_? It is very good, very romantic.  
”  
“Yuck!” He stuck out his tongue. “Thanks, but no thanks. I rather do homework.”

When he was gone, she finally let herself laugh. Bruce just shook his head in apparent exasperation. “He’s in that wonderful stage where girls don’t have cooties anymore, but he hasn’t quite decided he likes them yet.”

“I see.” She was still chucking as he slid in the movie and made himself comfortable on the couch next to her. “At which point he is sure to discover that the true way to a woman’s heart is through Humphrey Bogart.”

“Oh, is that it?” He feigned innocence and smiled.

They settled into a comfortable quiet as Bogart and Bergman played out their never-to-be romance on the silver screen. The movie was still one of her favorites, even though Talia would probably quote most of it. It also wasn’t as long as some modern films, but despite that she felt herself nodding off towards the end.

Her beloved shifted his shoulder, and she realized she had nearly fallen asleep on it. Talia pushed herself up slightly, but he wrapped an arm around her. She felt his lips press against her temple, the gesture as a whole conveying nothing but warmth.

“It’s almost to the credits,” he assured her.

“I am keeping you from patrol.” She tried to blink away the weariness, but her mind and body wouldn’t obey.

“No, I told you I’m staying in. Here.”

There was some shifting and she felt herself being lifted. At any other point Talia might have protested, but she was honestly too tired. They were up the stairs, and she was being lowered onto a bed, presumably his. He must have retrieved her nightgown from the bag she had brought with her, because when she had a second to register it, the fabric that clad her body was soft and loose. The bed sagged under his weight, and she rolled over to face him as he lowered himself down next to her.

“I am afraid I am unlikely to be nearly as much fun tonight,” she murmured into his chest.

He chuckled and gathered her into his arms. “Humm it’ll be tough, but I’ll learn to live with the disappointment.”

Talia awoke at some point in the night, only a little surprised that he’d kept his word and was soundly sleeping beside her. Carefully detangling herself from his embrace, she padded over to the bathroom. _Your child is pressing on my bladder!_ she thought loudly in his direction. That wasn’t quite the truth, and Talia knew it was unfair to be irritated, but she couldn’t help it. Only two months in, and no matter how hard she tried not to let this take over her life, apparently neither her body nor her unborn child cared what she wanted.

Bruce was sleeping perfectly soundly when she returned and crawled under the blankets beside him. There really was no point to her annoyance. It was not as if he would be able to help even if he knew, and she could not very well begrudge him a good night’s sleep when Talia knew full well how poorly he rested most of the time. She was drifting off again herself, when he rolled over and hugged her to him again. Talia didn’t give the gesture a second thought – he probably just did it in his sleep, anyway – but just as she was nearly dozing, she felt his fingers skim over the exposed flesh of her lower stomach.

“Your mother is very tired. Give her a break.”

His voice was so soft that had she been a fraction deeper into slumber, she wouldn’t have heard it. But she did. It held the same irrefutable commanding tone he’d used with Jason.

Talia almost felt her heart stop.


	9. Part IX

Dawn was less than an hour away, and still she remained awake.

Bruce may or may not have been asleep – at this point there was little she would have put past him – but he at least seemed to be resting with his eyes closed. He hadn’t released his embrace all night, and she didn’t dare move. Moving might rouse him, and if he awoke Talia was not sure she could keep her composure. As it was she was barely holding it together, barely keeping herself from going to pieces.

He knew... How!?

She’d been so careful! Hadn’t said a word! She wasn’t even showing yet!

He _couldn’t_ know... except that he clearly did.

She hadn’t imagined those words, that he hadn’t uttered them in sleep, dreaming of their brief time in the Middle-East. He knew about the baby, knew that she’d lied to him about the worst possible thing. The urge to run was overwhelming, but still she couldn’t move. His hand moved to cup her left breast, and she was sure if he was awake, her beloved would feel her heart racing against it. She couldn’t imagine otherwise as hard as it was pounding at her ribs. Talia couldn’t hold back a wince. Fear aside, the flesh was tender.

The effect was instantaneous.

The touch retreated immediately, and Bruce was moving, rising, until he was supporting himself on his elbow above her. The eyes that gazed down on her were so full of openly genuine concern, she wanted to weep. Talia screwed her eyes shut.

“What’s wrong?” If he was ever asleep, his voice held no hint of it. “Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head vehemently. “No, Beloved. Never.”

How did she dare still call him that? How could he think he’d harmed her when all along it was entirely in reverse? The whole of her being felt as if he had gripped her very heart and squeezed. She trembled and tried to turn away in a wasted effort to hide. He would not let her though, gently but firmly touching her jaw and making her face him.

“ _Something_ is wrong,” he insisted. “Tell me.”

Talia swallowed hard. When the wet sensation on her cheeks came upon her, she didn’t even have time to conceal or wipe the tears away before the pads of his thumbs traced the trails, smearing the salty liquid.

“Tell me,” he repeated softly. She only heard, ‘ _Tell me the truth about our child..._ ’

She breathed in deeply, though it did little to calm her, and took his hand to replace it over her heart. “Please, Beloved. Allow me this… deception a little while longer. Pretend you do not know, that you do not hate me.”

Above her, where up till now she’d sensed tension, he relaxed. And then he was kissing her, not with passion, but gently, soothingly. They rained down all over her face until not even a trace of tears remained. His fingers brushed the locks at her brow and temples.

“I _never_ have to pretend that.” He pressed his lips against hers as if to seal the promise. “Try to rest and don’t worry about anything. We’ll talk later in the morning.”

She relaxed only marginally, not knowing what to make of all this affection, the lack of obvious anger. But for his sake, Talia tried to at least feign respite. Considering how warm and comfortable his arms felt around her, it really was not that hard at all. She must have slept because when Talia opened her eyes again, the edges of the window around the curtains were lined with light.

Bruce still lay beside her.

Talia felt nauseous. Some of it was unquestionably morning sickness again, but she had no doubt that it was also the fear and guilt that were clawing at her soul. She took a few shallow breaths. It did the trick sometimes... but apparently not in this case. And what was the point now, anyway? She was out of bed and in the adjacent bathroom, and for a few moments there was nothing but that atrocious feeling of bile in her throat. Then Talia felt a large hand on her back. Bruce was kneeling behind her, brushing and holding her long hair away from her face. When the bout seemed to subside, he rose, and she heard the water running. When Talia looked up, he was holding out a glass for her.

“Thank you.” She took it. The water tasted wonderfully cool.

He nodded, watching her carefully. “Are you okay?”

“For now.” She sighed. “It is likely to return at some point. Do not fear; it is to be expected.”

“I know.” He sounded so calm... as if they had been going through this together from the beginning. His eyes were still gentle, but Talia could see they were also full of determination. “Are you well enough to talk? I don’t want to push you. If you tell me ‘no’, I’ll wait. Do you want to eat first?”

It would have been so easy to take him up on that offer – not the food; that held no temptation for her at the moment – but Talia shook her head. Delay was both unfair to him and pointless. Rising, she let him lead her back to the master bedroom and sat on cross-legged on the bed. Her nightgown was pooled about her, the glass still clutched in both hands. He sat down only a few inches away in front of her, one leg bent under him, the other balanced on the floor.

“I know you probably have questions, too,” he tried after a moment of silence. “It might help if we take turns.”

Talia wasn’t sure if she felt overwhelmed or numb. “I believe it would be fair for you to start.”

“Alright,” he nodded, but the question she expected didn’t come. Instead he asked, “How are you... are you alright?”

“As you can see.” She smiled a little weakly. “I am well enough. No discomfort is out of the ordinary for this stage. I am certain you do not wish to hear the details.”

“I do.” He insisted. “I want to know everything.”

Looking into his eyes, Talia could see he meant that, and not just to say it for the sake of making her feel better.

“Very well.” She took a breath and straightened slightly. “I... I am exhausted and sick. Not merely in the morning, but almost every daylight hour of the last month. When I am not there to vomit, I am in the bathroom because my internal organs are in the process of being rearranged, and my bladder seems to be losing that particular struggle. I can barely eat, and yet my clothing is already starting to chafe, namely because my breasts have somehow... I cannot even begin to understand what is happened there. And everything smells!”

Bruce bit his lip. He looked like he was trying not to smile, which Talia found infuriating. Here she was, riddled with guilt and fear, and he found her suffering _amusing_? It must have showed on her face because he held up a hand in a calming gesture.

“If it makes you feel any better,” he waved his hand indicating all of her, “at least one thing on that list is definitely... an asset.”

 _Had he just..._ Talia glared. “I will not even dignify that with a response, and I believe it is my question.” Her expression turned somber. “When did you know?”

His face became serious again as well. “I started to suspect Monday morning, after the night we spent at your place. I couldn’t tell what it was at first, just that you looked... different.”

“Others...”

“...would never be able to tell,” he assured her. “But no one else knows you... intimately.”

That was true. She had never been with a man before him, before their brief time together that had brought forth the life that was now growing inside her, and certainly not since. A thought flashed through her mind that there might not ever be anyone else after their inevitable parting. As much as it hurt, she still felt it inevitable, and at the moment she could not imagine letting any other man touch her like that.

“Then... Wednesday night was your confirmation.” Talia silently cursed her carelessness. She’d known she shouldn’t have...

“No,” he interrupted. “Tuesday evening.”

She frowned, thinking. What had transpired Tuesday evening? She had brought the book for Jason which had begun to endear her to the child slightly. The three of them had had dinner at the manor, but she had felt no ill-effects. The whole night had had been quiet and uneventful, except... Suddenly it hit her, and her head snapped up, eyes wide.

“Kent!” She had no idea how the Kryptonian was involved, but Talia was sure of it.

Bruce confirmed it with his guilty look. “He could... hear the heartbeat.”

She was incensed. “That... lout heard my baby’s heart beating before me!”

“ _Our_ baby.” He corrected. “Getting him involved wasn’t my first choice either. Actually my first choice would have been you telling me.” His head tilted slightly as if he was considering whether or not to ask the next question. “Were you going to?”

The answer could be either what he wanted to hear or honest. It could not be both. As it was, she chose for honesty. She owed him that much. “I had not explicitly thought to, no.”

His breath hitched, and she wished more than anything not to have to see the pain that flashed over his face. Then Bruce was composed again, looking at her with clear eyes. “Then why did you come?”

“I wished to see you.” At least this she could answer honestly. She lowered her head and was glad for the curtain of hair that hid some of her face, suddenly feeling ashamed for her weakness. “I was... lonely. And heartbroken. I know it was I who pushed you away in the end, told you that I had lost the child so that you would feel no obligation to me, but as... unspeakable as that was to do, the lie proved even more so on the follow through. That is the truth... as much as I am capable of deciphering form my own heart.”

He was still for a moment, then leaned forward and kissed her again, as if in thanks for the open and honest answer. She didn’t pull back, but his reaction baffled her. He should have been furious. What did her personal feelings matter in comparison to the magnitude of the lie?

“I think,” he said pulling back slightly, “you _did_ mean to tell me. Or you wanted me to find out. You’re one of the smartest people I know, Talia. You couldn’t have honestly thought we’d spend a whole week together, and I wouldn’t know in the end. If you really wanted to keep this from me, you wouldn’t have come.”

Talia shook her head. “That is a wonderful lie to believe.”

“I don’t think it’s a lie.” He looked at her with genuine openness. “But we can talk about your subconscious intentions later.”

He seemed so happy with that belief that Talia didn’t dare rip it away. And what if he was right? _Had_ she known all along that this would happen? It was too much to think about, and it was her question. He had already asked two in a row.

“Who else knows? Aside from you and Kent.”

“On my end?” He sounded a little surprised. “Just Alfred. I had him stop by to see our friend Dr. Leslie Thompkins and ask for some advice, but I asked him to do it on behalf of some relative back in England.”

“Do you not trust her?”

Talia knew she was a surrogate mother of sorts to Bruce. ‘Of sorts’ because neither Dr. Thompkins nor Alfred would ever truly fill the void left behind by his parents’ absence. It was not for a lack of trying; Bruce had simply never allowed that happen. Still, she was one of the few people to truly be there for him after that horror, and though she had never met the woman, Talia would forever be grateful.

“I trust her.” Bruce replied. “But I’d like us to sort this out with minimal outside input. Just us. You and me. Which is why I need to know the same from your side. Does anyone else know? Your father?”

“No,” she shook her head. “He believes as you did. The only other person is Dr. Weltmann. She acted as my physician and agreed to go along with the deception.”

“And you think she didn’t tell Ra’s? I thought everyone in that place was loyal to your father.”

“She will not betray me.” Talia didn’t miss the implication within the statement that he considered her loyalty a hindrance as well. “Not on this matter.”

“Alright.” He sounded more contemplative than convinced. There was a short stretch of silence before he rose off the bed. “Let’s go downstairs. I know you’re probably not up to it yet, but you should try to eat something.”

Was that all? She gave him an odd look. “You have yet to ask the most important question.”

“Oh?”

“Why the deceit to begin with... why I lied to... everyone, especially you, about something of this magnitude... ”

It was not a question she wanted to face, but now that he knew, he had to know everything. It was not as if Talia expected it to make a difference, but she would have her intentions be clear, would have him know they were pure. _Good intentions... the paving of the road to hell..._ Bruce cocked his head to the side.

“Has your opinion changed?” She didn’t understand, so he rephrased. “If you could go back, would you still do it?”

It was another question without a good answer, and again she chose honesty. “Yes.”

He nodded. “Then it’s something we’re going to be arguing about... and I don’t think either of us is up for that right now.”

* * * * * * * * * *

  
It had taken a lot of will power not to ask that question. The detective in him rebelled, but he pushed that voice aside. This had to be handled carefully. Talia must have already thought he was insane. She’d been expecting anger; he could see it by the fear in her eyes. Most people would have been angry, and he was, but there were so many other emotions – excitement, wonder, surprise, and, yes, some fear – that there was simply little room for anger.

When they came into the kitchen, Alfred was just pouring hot water into the tea pot. One look, and Bruce could tell the other man knew everything. His expression soft, he turned to them.

“I believe congratulations are in order.”

Talia bent her head, as if she wasn’t sure how to take it, but she replied with, “Thank you.”

“Wonderful. Now then, what would the mother-to-be like to eat?”

“Tea and...” She looked around hesitantly and sat. “Perhaps a bagel or toast?”

“I will happily bring you both.” Alfred told her. “And perhaps some milk and yogurt. I have it on good authority that a woman in your condition should get plenty of calcium.”

“Yes. Alright.” When he was gone, she looked up at Bruce. To his amusement, she was frowning. “How did I just agree to so much food?”

“Because it’s easier to agree with Alfred than argue with him.” Bruce grinned. When the butler returned, he asked, “Is Jason at school already?”

“Yes, sir. It _is_ already nearly noon.”

He hadn’t realized it was that late. It gave them less than two days to figure things out, a task made only slightly better now that both of them were almost on the same page as far as knowledge was concerned. But Talia still seemed badly shaken by the night’s revelations, though what part specifically he couldn’t quite tell.

“He does not know?” she asked, even though he’d already said as much.

“I thought it best to tell him after you and I figured things out,” Bruce repeated. “I can’t worry about this and his reaction at the same time.”

“Are you concerned?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “He doesn’t always have the best... emotional stability. I don’t want him lashing out at you or doing something rash like running away.”

“Fair enough. He is your son. You know what is best.”

She looked down into the tea that had just been placed in front of her, and Bruce could tell she had that look that meant she disapproved but chose not to say anything. He wanted to ask her to elaborate but decided against it. Besides, there was nothing he could say that wouldn’t launch them into another discussion neither was quite prepared yet.


	10. Part X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stories (both oral and written) play a big part in this fic. I grew up with my grandfather reading to me every day, and I imagine that Talia is very well versed in all kinds of literature. Many Middle-Eastern cultures also have a long oral tradition. As seen in Batman and Robin #23, Jason seems to like to read, but here he really struggles with it. I'll definitely be addressing that more in the story.

Jason looked ecstatic.

Bruce was honestly not sure if he’d seen the boy so happy in all these months. He’d opted to pick him up from school instead of Alfred. Talia looked like she might need some space, and he figured he owed it to the boy to spend some quality time together considering the bomb that he would be dropping on him soon enough. There was no way that Jason was going to take that one well.

But at the moment he was running to the car with a huge smile on his face. When he saw that it was Bruce rather than Alfred, it only widened. He jumped into the front seat, instantly unzipped his backpack and began rummaging through it. Bruce waited, curious, until the boy pulled out a few stapled sheets of paper and proudly handed the stack to him.

“What’s this?” He feigned surprise even though he had a good idea already.

“My English lit essay!” The boy was almost breathless with excitement. He poked the red letter at the top. “See?”

“B+,” Bruce read and gave him a glance of mock suspicion. “You sure this is yours?”

“Course it’s mine!” Jason rolled his eyes, sulking, but only a little. “The teacher called me in later. He didn’t believe I wrote it by myself either, but then I explained it. He said if I kept it up and tried to use more different words I might even get an A next time!”

“That’s great.” Bruce smiled and handed the paper back to him. “I’ll read it over the weekend. Is this the one you and Talia were talking about?” The boy nodded. “Show it to her when we get home. She’ll be very happy for you.”

“Mhmm.” He stuffed the essay back into his backpack and pulled on the seatbelt. “Think she read _To Kill a Mocking Bird_? It’s the next one we got.”

“Probably.” He pulled out into traffic. “She likes to read, and that’s a classic. It’s one of my favorites, actually.”

“Really?” Jason looked at him with genuine interest. “What’s it about?”

He thought about how to best explain it. “It’s about... a man’s quest for justice in a society that’s not necessarily interested in it. About doing what’s right and teaching the next generation to do the same.”

“So... it’s about you.”

“No,” Bruce smiled sardonically. “Atticus Finch, the narrator’s father, is a lawyer. He works within the system, not around it.”

“Yeah, well, the system sucks.”

He couldn’t argue with that, especially not with Jason, who up till only recently had been truly discarded and overlooked by the very system that was supposed to be in place to protect children like him. The boy had a right to feel resentment, but Bruce was determined that it would not be the only thing in his life, that it wouldn’t consume him.

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “But the point Harper Lee tried to make is that there can be good people in very bad situations, and that they can stay good. Come talk to me when you start reading it. I’d like to hear what you think.”

“Okay.” He seemed happy enough with that response then looked up at him. “Is... umm... is Talia not sticking around? I know she said she was leaving at the end of the week, but you guys looked kind of... together.”

They stopped at a light. For the countless time in the week, Bruce found himself very careful with his words. “We’ll talk about it today or tomorrow. I think she wants to stay, but it’s... it’s complicated, Jason.”

“So what else is new?”

Sometimes Bruce forgot that Jason was no ordinary child. At times it was difficult to tell when to treat him like any other twelve-year-old and when to talk to him as an adult. There were things he still had to wait on, but by the same token he had to know what the boy thought on the matter. Blending this family was not going to be easy.

“Do you want her to stay?” he asked.

The child shrugged a shoulder. “I wouldn’t mind, I guess. It’s not like with those other people you _have to_ have around sometimes. She knows everything, so you don’t have to play that stupid clueless-dumb-guy role. And she doesn’t treat me like a charity case. I know that’s what all the snobby rich people think.”

 _Damn it!_ He’d been trying to keep Jason out of the spot light, but it seemed like that hadn’t completely worked. There was little doubt in his mind where the wind was blowing from. He might not have had any parties in Wayne Manor since he took Jason in, but it seemed that even in a public school the boy could not help but attract some attention.

“I don’t care about all that stuff,” Jason put in as if reading his mind. “Totally ignoring it. But it’s... you know... nice not to be treated like a zoo animal.”

He wanted to tell him that it wasn’t fine no matter what, offer to talk to someone at school, but as fiercely private and independent as he was, Jason was sure to balk at the suggestion. A born performer, Dick had been good at playing the role of air-headed, bored rich kid, but Jason didn’t even try to do that which was just as well. No matter how much he tried to hide it, the boy wore his emotions on his sleeve most of the time.

“We’ll talk about it soon,” the man repeated. “I’d like for her to stay, too.”

Jason snorted. “I bet.”

Bruce was about to tell him that his love life was not up for discussion, then realized that they _were_ sort of discussing it, then was about to rephrase that it was his sex life that was not up for discussion, but that was a topic he really didn’t want to go into with the boy. So Bruce said nothing. He only felt a _little_ like a coward for it.

Though he tried not to think about it, Bruce was nevertheless relieved that Talia was still at the manner when they returned. She emerged from the living room when the door closed behind them, and he noted that her first smile was not for him but Jason and it only got bigger when he showed her the paper.

“That is fantastic.” There was true pride in her eyes. “Very well done, Jason.”

Bruce couldn’t help but feel that those should have been his first words too, instead of however playfully asking if the paper was really his. Jokes like that would have been perfectly fine with Dick, but Jason was understandably a shade more sensitive. But all that was completely secondary to Jason’s obvious happiness at the praise in Talia’s voice. He had known her for less than a week and already her opinion meant something to this boy who was usually so guarded. When their eyes met, Bruce offered her a small, grateful smile.

 _It could be like this_ , his eyes spoke silently.

All he got in return was a look of resigned sadness.

* * * * * * * * * *

  
It was Talia who told him to go back out on patrol. One night off was fine, but two and she saw him glancing at the clock when he thought she wasn’t looking.

“Go,” she’d said a few hours after dinner. “This changes nothing as far as you and the city are concerned. I will not have you pretend otherwise. Do not concern yourself; I will still be here in the morning.”

He had that guilty look then, like he hadn’t realized he’d been so obvious about his anxiety that she might just run away after learning that he’d known for most of the week. Talia tried not to feel angry about it – she had no right to that anger – but it was hard not to. Still when it came time to rest, after he had departed, she had chosen his empty bed as opposed to any of the other numerous guest rooms. It might have been unseemly considering the question that still lay between them, but Talia was honestly too tired to care.

In the quiet of the large room, the bed and sheets were a comfort that let her at least pretend he was there beside her. She buried her face in the pillow that smelled like him, slightly musky and masculine. It lulled her into a surprisingly somewhat restful sleep. With the end of Sunday deadline approaching, Talia knew she still had to decide what to do... but that would be later.

She was a little surprised that when she awoke well before dawn it wasn’t due to any discomfort, just restlessness. Lying in bed for a few minutes more, Talia absently touched her lower abdomen, feeling both amused and annoyed.

“You torment me when it was just the two of us,” she said to her unborn child, “but as soon as your father asks, you deign to spare me. Should I expect the same treatment after your birth?”

It hit her at that moment: why it was so very different now that he knew. There was a moment of gut reaction to want to curl in on herself and hide, but instead Talia felt... relieved, even a little hopeful. She would tell him everything tomorrow, she decided. Her reasons, her hopes... everything. Then they would decide what was best.

Together.

Feeling the unburdened for the first time in two months and still a bit restless, Talia threw aside the sheets, and reached for one of the silk robes she’d brought with her after the last trip to the loft. The manor outside the master bedroom was dark and empty, and she was contemplating going down to the kitchen for a glass of water or milk, when a sound from Bruce’s study caught her attention. It was still a bit early for him to be back from patrol, but knowing that one of the entrances to the cave, she decided to check.

What she found was not Bruce but Jason sitting on the floor with his back against the large mahogany desk. His hands hung from his slightly bent knees, and he stared at the grandfather clock that Talia knew to be the doorway, the passage out of Bruce Wayne’s world and into Batman’s. When he heard her enter, the boy looked up, not so much startled as just tired.

“What are you doing awake, child?” She knelt by him.

Jason rubbed his eyes with the back of his pajama sleeve. “Waiting.”

Talia knew the feeling all-too well. “Would you care for some company?”

He shrugged, and she took that as confirmation, sitting on the floor opposite of him with her own back against the book shelf next to the clock. Aside from the initial acknowledgment, the boy did not really look at her. Actually, he didn’t seem too awake. She looked around the rest of the room.

“Well, this is a bit cliché.” Jason did glance up at her questioningly then. “The women and children waiting for the men to return from war. Cliché.”

Jason picked at the carpet. “I should be out there with him.”

The idea made Talia uneasy at best, but instead she said, “Soon enough. Do not be in such a hurry to plunge into the world of violence.”

The look he gave her reminded Talia of a few she’d received from her father or one of her teachers when she was very young and had said something foolish. When this boy looked at her like that, it was as if _she_ was the child. She lowered her eyes first.

“My apologies, Jason.”

“He told you about me, didn’t he?” It wasn’t so much an accusation as a simple checking of the facts. “Where he got me from, I mean.”

“Yes.” Talia tried not to look at him with the pity she knew would be unwanted. “I meant to say that simply because you have already witnessed horrors does not mean you should be in a hurry to return to that world. However capable you think you are – and I have no doubt you will be even more so – you are still very young.”

“I want to help. People out there in the East End... other kids who weren’t lucky like me and...” He pulled his knees to his chested and tilted his head to rest his left cheek against them. “If I was with him, Bruce would have someone to watch his back. What if something happens and he’s all by himself out there?”

“Trust in him,” Talia replied to assure him as much as herself. She didn’t want to think of the possibility. “He has been doing this for a long time. Before you and before Richard Grayson.”

“Oh,” Jason said sourly. “ _Him_.”

Feeling that this was a subject best left to Bruce’s discretion, Talia changed the topic. “Would you like to hear a story? About one man’s – a hero’s – will to return home after a war.”

“What’s will got to do with anything?” Jason snorted. “I’m sure everyone who died would much rather be home, too.”

“Will is everything.” Those were her father’s words. “It can overcome any obstacle, even death. Shall I tell?” Jason nodded, and Talia took a breath, organizing her thoughts. “You know of Princess Diana of Themyscira? Wonder Woman.” Another nod. “This particular tale comes not from my land but hers. It was written almost three millennia ago by the Greek poet, Homer. His two greatest works are the _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_ of which I will tell you the latter. The tale of the cunning king and warrior Odysseus goes as such...”

About an hour later, somewhere between Scylla and Charybdis, Jason began to doze in earnest despite half-hearted protests for her to continue. Talia smiled, assuring him that she would later, and tried to convince the boy to go back to bed. That much proved useless, but she did manage to get him to move to the sofa where sleep finally took him for good.

Ironically, the grandfather clock slid aside only moments later. Still standing over the couch, she didn’t turn but allowed the ghost of a smile to touch her lips.

“He wanted to wait for you.”

“He often does.” Dressed in a loose shirt and sweatpants, Bruce came around and touched the sleeping child’s dark hair. “Usually he makes it back to his room before I come up. I think he’s embarrassed.”

“Why?” She asked earnestly.

Bruce shrugged. “Touch guy mentality. He thinks it makes him look… weak.”

“He is a child and he worries his father may not come home one night. He needs you no matter what he admits.”

She didn’t point out that there was no age at which that was no longer true. As much as it applied to both of them as the children of either murdered or sometimes distant parents, it could also just as easily apply in reverse to what was to come. Bruce must have realized this, but he didn’t call her out on it. Instead he bent and lifted Jason into his arms. It was not lost on Talia just how painfully small he was for his age. Bruce easily supported him in one arm, resting the other on his back. The boy shifted a little in sleep finally resting his head against the man’s shoulder.

“Smells like Kevlar,” he murmured without really waking.

Talia smiled. “It does.”

Bruce chuckled. “I get the hint. I’ll shower.”

He just began moving to the door when she reached out and touched his arm lightly. He turned. Talia took a breath. There was no going back now.

“I am ready to talk.”

“Alright.” He nodded slowly never breaking eye contact with her. If he was surprised, he didn't show it. “Let me put him to bed and we'll talk.”


	11. Part XI

Bruce took his time in the shower despite knowing that the longer he made her wait, the more nervous Talia was no doubt going to be. Still he remained, washing away every last bit of dirt and sweat from the patrol. A part of it was because he didn’t want to bring any signs of Batman, of the streets of Gotham, into the bedroom. Did he think it would taint her? Talia had seen things far worse than a little grime. He suspected that was he not Batman she wouldn’t have taken a second look to begin with those years ago.

It wasn’t that.

Standing under the hot stream, he finally had to admit that he was making her wait not in spite of her worry but because of that. He _was_ angry, damn it! He was – however subconsciously – punishing her. With that realization, Bruce turned off the flow and stepped out.

When he walked back into the room, now dressed in clean clothes, Talia was standing by the window. She still wore the silk robe over her nightgown, not having bothered to change yet. Dawn was just beginning to seep through.

“I think you were right,” she said without turning away from the sunrise. “About me secretly wishing you would learn of all this.”

“Oh?” He slowly sat on the edge of the bed, not taking his eyes off her.

“Do not be proud of me. It was a selfish wish.” Her right hand came to rest on her lower stomach. “Did you know that since our parting and until this night, I have never spoken to our child? I... consciously tried not to think of it at all.”

“Why?” He tried to hide the slight hurt in his voice.

Talia finally turned and met his gaze. “Because I did not think I would be allowed to keep him.”

Alarm flashed through his mind. “You thought Ra’s would... take him away from you?”

She gave a bitter chuckle. “You always think the worst of my father. No, he would not part me from my flesh. Remember, that I had deceived him as well.” She took a breath. “My intention was to have the child in secret and... and find a proper family that would care for him, love him as their own. I did not think I could... I did not believe he would be mine to raise. Mine to love.”

For a moment he couldn’t quite understand what she was saying, and then it hit him. She meant to give the baby up? Bruce honestly hadn’t thought of that. It never even crossed his mind that it could be what she intended. The half-a-heartbeat that it took for the idea to turn over in his head, he grew to hate it. Not because it was wrong but rather because how absolutely right it could be. A normal family? Normal parents with boring nine-to-five jobs? No waiting up at night wondering if this would be the one when a father doesn’t come home. None of this... vigilante stuff.

“I...” He shook his head to clear it. “I can’t do that, Talia. You _have to_ know that. I know you’re probably right; this is hardly the best way to raise a family... an infant. But I... I _can’t_ give him up. I’m not that selfless.”

She smiled sadly. “I know. I must have known. I must have known that if you were to find out, you would not let me go through with this. I _want_ to keep our child. I just do not know how.”

“I do. Stay with me. With us.” He was on his feet and taking long strides to her in seconds. Bruce took both of her shoulders and made her look at him. She opened her mouth to protest, but he went on. “I can’t stop you from... from giving the baby up, but even if you feel you can’t be part of his life, _I’ll_ take him. But I don’t want that to be a... a threat. I want us _all_ to be a family. Jason adores you. No one’s ever been able to...”

“Family?” Talia drew back, pushing at his chest slightly as if to temper his sudden burst of excitement. “You talk of family, but you have no regard for my father whom I love despite what you think. You talk of family, but when was the last time you spoke to Richard? You say Jason adores me, but you fear his reaction to _this_.”

The barrage of questions and accusations left him momentarily disoriented. He pressed his lips into a thin line, choosing his next words carefully.

“Jason doesn’t always think things through or lets people explain before he reacts. I meant what I said; he adores you, but all that might go right out the window.”

“Why?” He suspected she knew perfectly well and was simply pushing him to say it aloud.

“Because he’s going to feel like I did this on purpose. Like I’m...” He took a breath. “Like I’m trying to replace him.”

“Are you?”

“Of course not!” How could she even ask that?

“Did you tell him that?”

He blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Do you tell him he is irreplaceable?” She looked at him intensely. “Or, when someone asks you about your son, do you correct them?”

He sighed and dropped his hands, which allowed Talia to cross her arms. Again that feeling of wanting to take on every criminal in Gotham rather than argue with her came over him. A part of him was even a little angry that she was bringing Jason into this, but she was right. How could he talk to her about wanting a family but only pick and choose the amount of involvement she was to have?

“He _is_ my son,” Bruce agreed finally. “But he doesn’t think of himself that way, even if I do. It’s more... complicated when taking in an older child. I’m not going to force him to call me ‘dad’. I don’t want him to feel like I’m trying to replace his parents.”

“He does not think of himself that way because you do not _call_ him ‘son’,” Talia pointed out dryly. “You cannot expect a child to read your mind. It is a trick few have mastered.”

Bruce gave a mental wince. This wasn’t the first time he’d been accused of that.

“You’re right,” he nodded solemnly. “I’m _not_ good at this. Dick... _had_ parents. I mean he had good parents, attentive, loving, the kind of parents a kid should have. And I was much younger. I ended up being his... teacher, his big brother, but not really his father. Maybe I should have been, but I can’t change that now. But Jason... Jason _needs_ parents, and our baby is going to need parents. And... I’m afraid I’m not going to be enough in either case.”

Talia shook her head. “Do not do this. Do not put me in this position. At the very least if you take him, if my father believes this to be simply another child you adopted, he would not come after any of you. I made the decision to let go of our baby because I realized the two of us would forever be torn in this war between you and my father. Am I wrong?”

He swallowed. She wasn’t wrong, and maybe it was safer this way for all of them. Ra’s was many things, but he’d never been one for the needless spilling of blood. Of course his definition of ‘needless’ was light years away from Bruce’s, but still the man had a sense of... honor. If he believed the child to be no different from Dick or Jason, he would not intentionally go after it for no reason.

It made perfect sense... except Talia wouldn’t be in the picture. He’d been without her for the past two months. Longer if he was honest with himself about all the times before when he’d wanted her by his side so very badly, and she was half a world away. Could he do it again? Probably. Did he want to? Not in the slightest.

“You’re not wrong,” he finally admitted. “And I know you love your father, regardless of whether or not I think he deserves it. But the bottom line is, he doesn’t need you, and we do.”

The glare she gave him was as hard and cold as a block of ice. “What? No epic declarations of eternal love?”

“Would you believe me?” He said rather abrasively. “Or would you again say that I’ll never love anything as much as Gotham?”

“Are you saying it is not so?” She challenged. “Even before this I had offered myself to you. I was willing to turn my back on my father, on my entire life, all for you! And what did you say?”

_No._

He’d said ‘no’, along with a string of lies for excuses that he regretted as soon as they past his lips and every time he thought of her since. It was _not_ supposed to be like this! Why did they have to continue to... martyr one another.

“That was a mistake,” Bruce said quietly. “I should have said 'yes'.”

Her expression changed instantly, shifting to soft and pained in a heartbeat. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You only say that because of the baby.”

“No.” She had every right to think that. He took her hands in his own, circling his thumb over the heel of her palm. “I already said I intend to be in that child's life no matter what. I also said I was selfish; I want you, too.”

She didn't protest but just watched as he brought her hand to his lips and pressed his mouth against the spot his fingers had massaged seconds earlier. The breathy little sigh told him she very much liked it, so he continued on the same path around the perimeter of her palm and to the tip of every finger. Then he stepped closer and cupped her face with his free hand.

“May I?” Her almost imperceptive nod gave him the permission, and his lips covered hers.

* * * * * * * * * *

They were supposed to be talking. Talking had – unsurprisingly – turned into arguing, but Talia hadn't imagined it would lead to _this_. _This_ made it impossible for her to think.

 _He_ made it impossible for her to think. When his lips were on her pulse at her wrist... at her throat... Large warm calloused hands slipped under the silk robe, slowly pushing it off of her shoulders. Talia closed her eyes, reveling in the feel of them on her bare flesh even as it was set further afire as his lips followed soon in the wake of his hands. Everywhere his mouth went it was with targeted precision for the best results; a little less pressure on her sensitive breast, a little more on her stomach and lower.

Her body burned. Time was irrelevant.Just as she was teetering on the edge, the touch fell away. Talia opened her eyes to see that they were face to face once more as he balanced above her, elbows set just on either side of her bare slim shoulders. He looked almost pained, and it occurred to her only then that she'd completely forgotten about his pleasure.

“Talia...” Oh, but she liked the way her name sounded out of his mouth when he was like this, voice hoarse with arousal. “I... Is it okay?”

It took far too long for her brain to process what he was asking, and she loved him all the more for it. She wrapped her long fingers around the nape of his neck and tugged him forward.

Their lips and bodies joined at almost the same instant, and then there was nothing but hot white light.


	12. Part XII

Wayne Manor was quiet until late into Saturday afternoon. When she and Bruce finally came downstairs, Jason was in the kitchen constructing the biggest sandwich Talia had ever seen. He showed no intent to speak of staying up to wait for his father the night before, and she could certainly see the 'tough guy' persona as Bruce called it. He also didn't say anything about their very late arrival downstairs, but the smirk on his face was telling enough.

The three of them spent the rest of the day together, but Talia's thoughts were far aware in the future and past. The 'what ifs' made it difficult to focus, and when Jason looked up at her expectantly, waiting for an answer to a question she had not heard, she could have sworn she could practically _see_ another child by his side.

 _He will be a good brother_ , she thought. _Attentive... protective..._

But another voice, her beloved's voice, countered. _It will not be enough._

“I am sorry,” she said. “I was... distracted.”

The boy frowned, looked at her, then at his father. Bruce nodded to the stairs. “Why don't you get a few hours training in before I have to go on patrol? We haven't done much this week.”

“Yeah!” His face instantly brightened, and he jumped down from the couch, turning to Talia. “Want to see? I'm getting really good.”

Every time she came down to the cave Talia found it a bit too cold for her liking, but it was to be expected. They went through a series of hand-to-hand combat exercises that she observed with careful curiosity. Bruce was, as ever, in perfect control, anticipating the boy's every move. Jason fought quick and hard. The style was quite different than what she had seen on Richard Grayson, more forceful, demanding the kind of mass and strength the boy did not yet possess. Talia frowned. Did Bruce see this?

Next they moved to the target practice area where several batterangs found themselves embedded in the head and chest of a practice dummy. Jason was grinning, apparently very pleased with himself. His father was not as outwardly expressive, but Talia could tell he was proud. She smiled at both of them.

Then Bruce produced the gun.

It was a standard 9 mm caliber. He checked the safety, then pressed a button on the computer embedded into the wall. The practice dummy disappeared into the floor only to be replaced with several posters of targets. Jason was grinning again, but Bruce wore the same grim look she was sure was mirrored on her own face. Without speaking a word, she looked at him.

 _Are you certain?_ Her eyes said, but he simply nodded. Talia took the few steps to close the distance between them and touched his arm. Bruce took a breath that she could tell was pained. He opened his mouth to say something, stopped, then tried again, but Talia decided to spare him.

“I can supervise, if you wish.” She offered softly. “You needn’t be here.”

Bruce looked down at the weapon, and Talia could almost imagine that the metal felt like it was burning against his palms. After a moment, he simply said, “Yes, I do. He’s my son.”

He was getting ready for patrol that evening with some reluctance, Talia could tell, as if he was afraid she might disappear in the middle of the night. It had occurred to her that it might be the easiest way out, but again the thought that he deserved better stopped her.

“I think,” she said casually watching him go through the contents of the utility belt for the tenth time, “tomorrow morning I should like to take Jason out for breakfast. It will give you a chance to rest.”

He looked up from his task. “Tomorrow is Sunday.”

“I am aware of that.” _Do not make me say more._

His eyes searched her face as if for a sign of... something. Then he nodded. “There's a good bakery about two blocks south from Wayne tower. The espressos... and home-made danishes are probably a good indication of the rest of their stuff.”

Talia tilted her chin up slightly. “American swill does not tempt me.”

“Right,” he smiled. “Of course. I remember what freshly roasted Arabian coffee tastes like.”

She could smell it in her memory, and Talia gave him a cold look. He chuckled and took a step towards her, cupping the side of her face with his already-gloved hand. The smell of Kevlar was more pronounced – whether it was because it had not yet been mired by dirt and sweat from the night's upcoming patrol or because of her heightened sense she did not know – and she remembered the way Jason seemed to take comfort from it. It smelled like him.

It was hard not to think about the fact that her father expected her to be half-way across the world by the end of the day, hard not to do the math as her brain unconsciously went through adding flight and time differences. It felt slightly cowardly to use the trip to the coffee shop as a distraction that morning, but she didn't care.

* * * * * * * * * *

If Jason was skeptical about going anywhere with her alone, he didn't show it. If anything, the boy's eyes lit up when in the morning he saw the Porsche pulled up in front of the house. Considering he'd already taken a few rides in the Batmobile, she failed to understand why that would impress him. When asked, Jason just shrugged.

“Well, you're not Batman,” he explained matter-of-factly, “but you're still officially like the... second... third coolest person I know.”

“Oh?” Talia raised a brow. “After your...” she caught herself wandering. 'Father' was still not a term either of them used. “After Bruce and... Superman?”

“Pfft,” he rolled his eyes. “Bruce and Alfred. You're _way_ cooler than Mr. Kent.”

“Why, thank you!” She laughed and pulled the car onto the long driveway. “And for such a well-crafted compliment, you earned your choice of pastry.”

“'Kay,” Jason grinned. “I can be bribed with food.”

“I surmised as much.”

She wondered if the two of them would draw attention. Even if she did not frequent Gotham often enough to be recognized, the ward of Bruce Wayne was sure to make a few heads turn. But Bruce had explained that he tried to keep Jason out of the spot light, so probably the most noticeable thing about him was that he was getting out of a 60K Porsche in jeans and sneakers. He spared a sidelong glance for Wayne tower a few blocks away, then quickly lost interest and ran after her.

Inside the shop smelled heavenly, and her eyes instantly zeroed in on a batch of freshly baked croissants being unloaded into the display. It was something nice and neutral that her body should have been able to handle without much protest. Jason had lingered at the display, already consuming everything with his eyes, before she gently touched his shoulder to usher him towards the register. The young woman in the black apron waited patiently for their order.

“Chamomile tea and plain croissant, please.” Talia said then looked down at the boy. “What would you like, Jason?”

“How 'bout a double espresso?”

“How about a hot chocolate?” She corrected sweetly.

“You said I could get whatever I wanted.”

“I said any pastry.” She reminded him. “The attempt was valiant, but do not think you can get around Bruce through me.”

Jason seemed to pout a little, but she also got the strong sense that she'd just won another small measure of his respect for catching the deception. “Hot chocolate and... that black and white bread thing?” he tried. Talia nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

He wandered over to the stack of magazines and newspapers, and she turned back to the cashier who was smiling at her as she entered the orders. “Chamomile tea, hot chocolate, plain croissant, and a marble loaf.” She repeated, and Talia gave her a credit card. “Your son is adorable, by the way. Quite the little con-artist.”

“He is very good.” Talia returned the smile, not bothering to correct her. “Luckily so am I.”

Their drinks and food arrived at the other end, and Jason immediately garbed his and began to undo the lid of the hot chocolate even as he walked to the counter with the various toppings. Judging by the amount of powdered cinnamon and mocha he was dumping on the whipped cream, Talia could tell she had a very hyper twelve-year-old to look forward to in the near future. But having chastised him once already, she was not willing to push her luck again. After all, she was not his mother.

Not yet.

The prospect of becoming a mother twice over in such a short period of time was staggering and more than a little frightening. _And quite possibly extremely premature_ , she reminded herself. After all, she had made no real decision, and even if she had, Jason might very well reject the idea. Despite his current good disposition, she knew the boy was volatile.

She caught sight of a table that was close enough that he could see her and was just about to go sit down, weaving her way through the line that had somehow gotten significantly longer. A woman in dark sunglasses blocked her way, and Talia politely sidestepped, but the woman moved as well. That was when she looked up just as the woman removed her glasses.

The tea in her hand suddenly felt cold.

“Shiva.”

The petite but quite deadly Asian woman looked at her impassively then inclined her head in what Talia recognized as a show of respect. “Lady Talia. Your father was expecting you to be on a flight back this morning.”

“So he had me followed.” She was less annoyed by that than the fact that she had not noticed anyone. But glancing briefly around the cafe, Talia could see at least three men who she knew were in Ra's al Ghul's employee. Her mind raced with options. She _could_ take on Lady Shiva, but her and the three men? In broad daylight? Her eyes shifted for an instance catching Jason in her peripheral vision.

 _Do not turn_ , she warned herself. _Draw no attention to him_.

But it was too late. Shiva looked past her to where Jason was still adding toppings to his hot chocolate. Her eyes narrowed. “Who is that boy?” Her voice lowered by another octave. “Is he really yours?”

Apparently she'd overheard the cashier's comment, and Talia's lack of denial in that moment. Now what? If she continued to let Shiva think that Jason was her blood, they would not harm him, but neither would they leave him alone. Even if she could not get out of the situation, Talia still hoped he could.

“No.” And she couldn't help but feel like the word hurt. “No, he isn't mine.”

“Then why is he with you?” the other woman pressed.

What was she supposed to say? How was she supposed to answer without giving herself or Bruce away? Bruce... her beloved... No, she was thinking of all of this in the wrong way. Talia's back straightened, and she fixed Lady Shiva with an icy glare.

“That,” she answered coolly, “is none of your concern. I am Talia al Ghul. I answer to my father, not his thugs. I will come with you willingly, but you _will_ leave the child out of this.”

If she was in any way offended, Shiva didn't show it. “Your father would no doubt be very interested in this child you put so much attention in. I'm sure you'll be more upfront with him than with me.”

She was calling her bluff, and Talia realized she was running out of options. Forcing herself to drop the haughty arrogant persona, she took a step forward and lowered her voice so that only Lady Shiva could hear.

“He's just a boy, Sandra.” She put as much emphasis on the woman's real name as she could. “I know you have lost a child as well. I know she was taken from you barely a moment after her birth. Look away now, and I promise I will do everything in my power to find out what happened to her. Even reunite you if it is at all possible.”

Lady Shiva looked uncharacteristically shaken. “It... was a girl?”

Talia nodded. She had not realized the woman did not even poses that much knowledge. To know so little about ones own child... Her thoughts instantly went to the life growing in her womb. How had she ever imagined she would survive the separation from her own baby?

“Help me now,” she pressed, “and I swear I will help you get her back. You know I have the resources...”

She was wavering, Talia could see that. Maybe she was playing out the past in her mind. Then her face hardened.

“She's better off wherever she is,” Shiva said definitively, “and I don't have the luxury of disobeying your father as freely as you do.” She turned to the men. “Escort Miss. al Ghul and her companion outside.”


	13. Part XIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So with the DKR out and without giving away any spoilers for those few of you who still haven’t watched, I just wanted to restate that the way I write these characters is influenced primarily by “Son of the Demon” and the earlier, pre-“Death in the Family” Batman comics. So while they might appear… softer, they’re not oc. Next chapter will most likely see Ra’s and a guest appearance by another fan favorite :D Enjoy and please review!

Jason was most certainly _not_ going to be separated from his father – or for that matter Gotham – quietly. Talia knew this, and she also knew just how important it was not to cause a scene. With Shiva’s eyes still closely trained on her, she crossed the crowded cafe until she reached the boy at the counter. He looked up and must have immediately seen the seriousness on her face. His own turned pale.

“Are we in trouble?”

“Yes.” She admitted. “My father expected me to return today, and apparently I was not trusted to do so on my own merit.”

“But you wouldn’t have, right? You were gonna stay with us.”

She marveled that even as he glanced passed her at Lady Shiva and the thugs, he was still more concerned about her actual intention than the danger they were currently in. It filled her heart with warmth, but Talia could not afford to be distracted. Rather tell him something that may or may not have been a lie, she returned to the problem at hand.

“Lady Shiva saw you with me. Do you know who she is?”

Jason nodded. “Super deadly assassin chick. She works for your old man?”

“At the moment. She refuses let me leave without you, and for Bruce’s sake, we cannot afford to cause a scene.”

The boy tensed. “Does she know who I am?”

“No.” Talia shook her head. “And if I have any power over it she will not find out. I will let no harm come to you, I swear it, but you must come quietly.”

Jason looked uncertain, and she could hardly blame him. Who in their right mind would willingly walk into an enemy stronghold, alone, unarmed, and not fully trained? He was a child!

Then, just like that, the boy’s azure eyes lit up.

“So we play along and when we have a chance we’ll call Bruce and he’ll come and get us,” he concluded enthusiastically. “Or maybe we even get away on our own. I can help!”

Talia was too stunned to speak, to correct him as she should have. _Does he think this is a game?_ The child was too eager for trouble, too into the idea of proving himself. But now was not the time for that. If the deception would help get them out of this without compromising Bruce, it was worth it. As strange as it might have seemed, they needed only to reach her father without Jason being recognized, and Ra’s had no reason to harm the boy.

She tried not to imagine of what her beloved would think.

The private jet was already on the tarmac by the time Jason and Talia arrived, flanked by her father’s escorts. When she stopped at the lowered door, Lady Shiva took a step forward. Talia raised her chin slightly, a pointedly haughty gesture.

“I care not for your presence,” she informed the other woman. “Take another flight or stay in Gotham. Entirely your choice, but you will not set foot on this plane while I am there.”

If Shiva was offended, she did not show it, simply inclined her head. Talia thought she might turn to go right then, but the other woman waited until she and Jason were in the plane’s doorway, no doubt waiting to make sure that they would not run. Likewise, Talia waited till the steps were rising before turning and ushering the boy further into the fuselage. He hopped into one of the wide leather chairs, looking as amusingly out of place as he had in Gotham’s business district. He was looking around curiously.

“Have you never been on the Wayne jet?” Talia enquired, sitting down opposite from him.

“Nope.” Jason was grinning. “I’ve never even been in a plane before. Well, I _sat_ in the Batwing, but that’s about it.”

“This one is extremely stable, so you should have no fear of turbulence.” She nodded and pulled out her cell phone, sliding the keyboard open. Her short, manicured fingers flew over the tiny keys for a moment before she clicked send and shut the phone off.

“What’re you doing?” Jason cocked his head to the side and nodded at the device.

“Informing Bruce of why we will not be returning for dinner.”

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

Bruce did not begin to suspect that anything was wrong until mid-day. He knew Jason well enough to know that once the boy warmed up to someone – and thankfully that looked to be the case with Talia – he was fairly enthusiastic about being in their company. And the later they stayed out, the more likely it was that Talia had decided to stay for good.

But now it was four o’clock, and he had a bad feeling something was not right. Jason was not answering his cell. By itself that meant nothing since he had a hard time making the former street kid understand that someone could possibly worry about him enough to want to know where he is. But Talia wasn’t answering either. Compiled with recent events and the choices he knew were pressing down on her, Bruce could not ignore the possibility that…

His phone buzzed and he grabbed for it. Not a call, but a brief message waited for him.

“Find Lady Shiva. I will keep Jason safe. I swear it.” __

_Not. Good._

This meant trouble. The kind that sent cold chills to the pit of his stomach. He had not experienced this since Qayin or since Dick was out on the streets with him. It was the fear of helplessness while someone he cared for was in danger. No, it wasn’t the same. Even before this Talia would not willingly let Jason be hurt, he knew that. But Bruce was far less sure about Ra’s or anyone else from the League.

He looked from his phone to the window. There was still daylight outside which meant he could not actually make any moves for a few hours. Not as Batman. Shiva could be well out of Gotham by then, though the fact that Talia had pointed him in the assassin’s direction meant he probably had a chance. At least he could do some research.

And he needed time to think, to plan his next words and moves very carefully.

Because Bruce was certain that when he go to them, he would be facing Ra’s al Ghul as well.

“What do you intend to do?”

Alfred stood behind him in the cave as he set the computer to run a search on which of Shiva’s usual safe houses were activated in the last few days. Bruce didn’t turn around.

“Find them.” He replied simply.

“And after?” Alfred pressed. He was rarely this… pushy, especially when Bruce’s body language was giving off as much tension as he knew it must be, but  Alfred had invested so much into this family, and he felt like he’d let the old man down. There was a stretch of silence, then he asked, “Do you believe this was premeditated?”

Inwardly Bruce winced. He’d intentionally avoided asking himself that. Things had been going so well… the kind of well that threatened to make his vigilance slip. But Talia was not easy to read, even for him. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe she’d never intended to stay… Still, she was never malicious, which was why he didn’t believe she would intentionally hurt Jason, and why he could honestly answer Alfred’s question.

“No,” he turned. “I don’t think so. I don’t think she meant to go, and I really don’t think she meant to take Jason. She wouldn’t have pointed me to Shiva if that was the case.”

Alfred nodded once, and stoic as he was, Bruce could have sworn he registered relief on the old man’s face. “Very well. Then I repeat my earlier question: what are your intentions?”

“Even if Ra’s is around, they’ll give Jason back to me. If this was a mistake – and I think it was – they have no reason to hold him. As for Talia…” Bruce took a small breath, an imperceptible gesture for anyone else, but in front of Alfred, he knew it was a tell. “She has to decide for herself.”

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

Seven hours into the flight, Talia regretted assuring Jason that there would be no turbulence. There was little, nothing that bothered the boy. She just wished she was as lucky, wryly wondering if there wasn’t something to her remark about the child growing within her behaving only in its father’s company. Two months ago she would have been able to handle anything without flinching. Now?

After yet another trip to the tiny airplane bathroom, Talia took a deep breath and another sip of the cold water in front of her. She turned away any food despite the length of the flight, even the apple slices Jason had picked up from his own plate and held out to her. The boy sat across the table from her and kept sending her worried looks. Talia cursed her inability to better hide the discomfort.

“Eat, darling,” she smiled weakly. “I will be alright.”

“Sure?” The concern on his face didn’t budge. “No offense, but you really don’t look so good. Are you sick?”

She thought about telling him that she did not like flying, but he would never believe such an obvious lie. She needed Jason to trust her, but now was not the time for the whole truth either.

“I am simply tired,” she tried. “It makes me more susceptible to motion sickness.”

He still looked like he wasn’t buying it, and suddenly Talia had the feeling that he was trying to ask or say something else. She straightened in her seat and looked at the boy more carefully. His eyes kept darting between her and somewhere… else. Somewhere far away that she could not see. With his demeanor towards her taking a turn for the positive in the last few days, she’d almost forgotten just how much of a history the boy had.

“Jason.” Her tone was careful. “I promise you I am not ill. Is something the matter that you should ask so often?”

“No.” But he shifted in his seat uncomfortably, no monger at all interested in his food. She kept looking at him, and he seemed to shrink in on himself, turning away. “Forget it. It’s stupid.”

“I do not believe that.” She reached across the table and gently tipped his chin with two fingers so that he would look at her again. “You can tell me. I promise I will not say a word to anyone, not even Bruce if you do not wish it.”

“It’s not a secret or anything.” The boy shrugged a shoulder, looking. “Bruce knows. We don’t talk about it, but he’s gotta know. He’s the world’s greatest detective, right?”

 _Typical_. The corner of her mouth turned up slightly. “Sometimes extremely intelligent people cannot discern when knowledge alone is not enough. I will not force you, but you _can_ tell me, if you wish.”

“It’s stupid.”

“I promise it is not.”

Jason stayed silent, and Talia decided she had pushed him far enough for now. She filed the incident away to return to later and walked across the cabin to pick up blankets and pillows that were laid out on the sofa. The boy blinked in her direction, still tense. Talia wondered if he was finally realizing that this was not going to be the adventure he must have imagined.

“I am weary,” she said, not needing to exaggerate much. “And there are still several more hours in the flight. We should try to rest.”

He looked hesitant, like he was about to say he was not tired, but must have decided it would not be very convincing. He slid out of the chair and trotted over to the couch where he climbed on next to her and sat, tracing the ornamental design stitched into the fabric of the blanket. He looked so very small in that moment, that all she wanted to do was draw the child to her and comfort him somehow.

“Would you like another story before you sleep?”

As it was, she had to settle for words. Bruce had warned her that Jason could be extremely skittish. Even the simplest physical affection like a hug could have the absolute opposite effect when he was like this. She was relieved to see that he did look up at the suggestion though, his interest apparently peaked.

“Like the one about Odysseus?”

“Perhaps something lighter,” she offered. “Something you are probably less familiar with. The Norse pantheon?” As she expected, the boy shook his head. “Ah, well,” Talia paused for dramatic effect, “then I will tell you a tale of Thor, the mighty god of thunder. Some said he was the most powerful of all the gods, but in this particular tale, all his strength could do nothing to help him. In fact, when he finally defeated the enemy, it was in a bridal gown.”


	14. Part XIV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I lied. No Ra’s al Ghul quiet yet – next chapter for sure! – but I don’t think you guys will be disappointed with the other guest star. Enjoy and please review!

A seedy bar in Gotham’s East End was not the kind of place Batman expected to find a master martial artist and assassin like Lady Shiva. Maybe on a job, but not drowning in what had to be her seventh shot of something foul-smelling. At least this would make the interrogation easier.

The other patrons scattered quickly and the bartender muttered about needing to see something in the back and vanished as well, but she didn’t move, even when Batman stepped only a food away behind her. But she knew he was there. The deceptively slight Asian woman smirked into her last shot and swallowed it down in one gulp.

“‘Reunite’, she said,” the assassin snorted into the now-empty glass. “Can you believe it?”

“I need to know where she is,” Batman said, cutting straight to the chase.

The woman shook her head as if she hadn’t heard him. Maybe she hadn’t. “As if I want that brat back. ‘ll just slow me down.”

He didn’t have time for this. Grabbing the woman by the wrists, hands twisted behind her back, he dragged her outside behind the bar. On a normal day she should have been able to put up a descent fight, break out of his hold at the very least. But now there was something… defeated about the martial arts master. It wasn’t anything he could focus on now.

“Talia al Ghul.” He carefully chose not to mention Jason for the moment. “Where did you send her?”

Shiva laughed, short. “Send her? You think I have any authority to make her highness go anywhere? Except to hell.”

She reeked of alcohol and bitterness. Batman jerked her arms sharply, not enough to really hurt but enough to jolt some sobriety into her.

“I need to know where she is,” Batman repeated. “You’re not leaving until you tell me, so I suggest you start talking. I’m not in a very good mood, Shiva.”

She snorted, shaking her head again. “You and your girlfriend. Think the _whole_ world revolves around you, right? Or is this about the kid?”

He didn’t move, but his blood ran cold. Did she mean Jason, who she must have seen, or was she talking about the baby? Did Ra’s and his people know? One was more likely than the other, so he decided to risk it.

“The boy who was with her,” he said carefully. “Your people didn’t harm him?”

“The way your girlfriend looked, I’m pretty sure she would have put two in the head of anyone who laid a hand on him, outnumbered or no.” Shiva twisted her head to look at him, malice momentarily seeping away. “Is he hers or yours? Both? She wouldn’t tell me, but I could tell something was up with that kid.”

Everything in him rebelled at the idea of giving her any more information about Jason, but she was not likely to forget seeing him. Batman’s only chance was to find a way to turn this to his advantage somehow. She’d only seen him briefly, he guessed. Therein lay the clue.

“He’s my new partner,” he replied evenly, but even as he said it, the part of him that was still Bruce Wayne under the cowl recalled Talia’s words about the importance of calling Jason his son. He mentally shook his head. Now was not the time.

“New partner?” Shiva repeated with a frown as if just recalling that Robin hasn’t been seen in months. “What happened to the old one?”

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

The first time Talia awoke, there was still two and a half hours to go. Jason was sleeping, head cradled in her lap, as she had fallen asleep half-sitting. Her back hurt a little, but she did not want to move and wake the boy. The second time was when the pilot called an hour before landing over the intercom. Jason was already awake, rummaging through a crate he had discovered in a corner.

Talia stretched and reached for the bottle of water leftover from the meal they had had earlier. Thankfully, aside from the slight stiffness, her body did not feel like it was about to rebel in some way. Jason, hearing that she was up, turned his head to look at her but otherwise did not move from his crouched position in front of the crate.

“Did you pick the lock?” she asked with a note of amusement.

He blinked at her innocently, and Talia could not help but shake her head. This was, as her beloved told her, a time not to pick the battle since the crate contained no firearms or explosives. The only weapons there were a collection of sharp daggers employed by many in her father’s League. Most of the contents was various clothing, disguises, and even face paint.

“Ninja stuff?” Jason asked. She nodded. “Cool.” He pulled out a long gray hood that flowed out into a cloak and made a face. “I don’t get capes. I mean, I know Bruce manages, but I’d think it’d just get in the way.”

“Everything has a purpose,” Talia picked up the hem of the material. “A ninja is meant to blend into the shadows. Shadows flow, thus a cape is good for mimicking that. Also in the darkness, even a slight person may cast a large shadow.”

“So it makes you look bigger to the bad guys,” the boy caught on. “Like a blow fish.”

“Exactly.” Talia laughed and swung the cloak around to be draped over his shoulders. “Stand up for me.”

Jason stood, the long material pooling on the floor around his feet. Talia pulled out one of the daggers, bunched the material up at ankle level and deftly cut through it. When released, the line appeared jagged, uneven. Jason twisted his head around to get a better look. He seemed pleased.

“It’s just like Bruce’s.”

“It is.” Talia playfully flipped the hood over his head. He laughed and pushed it back, shaking uncooperative strands of hair out of his eyes. Another thought occurred to her, and she reached back inside the crate to pull out a small jar. “Close your eyes.”

He obeyed, and Talia dipped two fingers into the light-weight face paint, and traced it over his eyes, painting on a domino mask. She gingerly whipped away the extra paint with the pad of her thumb, and stepped back to examine her work. Sensing that it was over, Jason blinked, the white and azure of his eyes bright in the inky background of the makeshift mask. He experimentally touched the corner of his eye. Talia gave him a mirror.

“Now,” she said, serious. “When we land, you must keep the hood on. Try to keep your face hidden and do not mention Bruce by name. No matter what. If you must speak of him, call him ‘Batman’. My father knows who he is and who you are, of course, but others do not.”

“Got it.” Jason nodded. “It’s totally on the d.l..”

“‘D.l.’?” she smiled.

“Down low,” the boy explained patiently. “Street slang.”

“Ah.” At least he seemed to be back in good spirits.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

He did get Talia and Jason’s destination eventually from Shiva. Unsurprisingly, it was in the Middle-East, but not the place he’d faced Qayin. Apparently Ra’s had decided to move his people. Batman was unsurprised, and it made his life both harder and easier. Harder because this was a location new to him, but easier because Ra’s didn’t know he was coming.

Batman left the master assassin behind the bar with a clear warning that she was to be out of Gotham by end of day, and returned to the cave, immediately heading to the computer. He needed more information, aerial surveillance of the area and more if he could get it. And he needed to make a call.

Wally West, in all his ridiculously bright yellow, orange, and colors, looked dumbfounded to say the least as he stared into the camera on the other side of the continent in the Titans Tower in San Francisco. Batman did _not_ call the Teen Titans, especially not recently.

“I need to speak with Nightwing,” he said without preamble.

Kid Flash stared at him dumfounded before blinking and finally finding his voice. “Umm… I’m not sure that’s such a good… Hey!” He pointed at the screen as if suddenly struck by a thought. “How do I even know you’re even really Batman?”

“Wallace,” the man spoke slowly, the same tone he used on Jason when the boy was being more stubborn than usual. “Go. Get. Dick.”

There was no need to make threats like the fact that the autonomy the teenagers enjoyed could be whisked away with the snap of his fingers. There were enough members of the Justice League that felt uneasy enough as it was about the teens working separately that he would have absolutely no trouble making sure that they and the tower were shut down.

The red-haired teen nodded and sped away, leaving him to stare at the empty monitor room in the tower. With Wally, the glare was enough to convince him of who he was. Bruce had to privately smirk at the fact that neither Dick nor Jason would have been intimidated by that. And later was twelve. Jason would have done as he was told – maybe… on a good day – but Bruce was under no illusion that he would have been intimidated.

A few moments later Dick entered and took a seat in front of the monitor. His face was blank, expressionless, and it took Bruce a split-second to recognize that he’d seen that same look in the mirror. He didn’t need to utter a single word for Bruce to know he was angry, bitter. For all of Dick’s blustering about not wanting to be like him, that was the exact direction he was headed in. The young man spoke first.

“What?”

“Hello, Dick.” He hoped his voice didn’t betray much, though he knew it probably did.

“It’s Nightwing,” the other man corrected, pointing to his domino mask. “What do you want, Batman?”

He had the strongest urge to pull back his cowl, to prove that there was still a human being under it. But Dick was right; not all the Titans knew that Bruce Wayne was Batman, and he was far less certain about security at the tower than in the cave, simply because he was not the one who set it up. Maybe he did have _some_ control issues.

“I need you to come back to Gotham,” he said instead. “As soon as possible.”

“Is that an order?” The space between Dick’s brows narrowed almost imperceptibly.

“A request.” Bruce paused before speaking the next words. “I could really use your help.”

Dick was silent for a long time, a myriad of emotions playing across his face which he tried to hide. The attempt might have even been successful if Bruce were anyone else. Several times he looked like he wanted to ask something but then changed his mind. Finally the young man took a deep breath, resigned.

“I can be there in a few hours. You want me at the cave or somewhere else?”

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

As soon as they had disembarked from the plane, Talia recognized the location. The Middle-East, but different than the place she had departed from. Perhaps this was where he had been for the last few weeks since their parting. She thought about how it would impact her beloved’s search and discreetly flipped her phone open.

Nothing.

She had assumed as much. Ra’s al Ghul generally kept communications very tightly controlled in his strongholds. Not that he had ever kept her from speaking to whoever she chose, but the phone was a piece of civilian equipment and therefore blocked by default. At least she had had the foresight to send Bruce the message when they had boarded the plane.

Tossing the useless cell phone into the sand that surrounded the runway, Talia pulled the hood of her own long flowing robes over her hair, and took Jason’s hand motioning the boy to the car that waited for them only a few feet away.

“Remember,” she whispered. “Not a word. If you to tell me something, squeeze my hand.”

The two men in the car including the driver did not speak to her either, generally keeping their eyes downcast. Talia sat back and willed herself to readopt the haughty exterior she always wore around the League. She could not afford any sign of weakness now.

Jason kept trying to glance up from below the hood as they neared the enormous structure. It would have been indistinguishable from any medieval fortress in the area if not for various satellites protruding from the roofs, giving away the highly advanced technology inside. He had tensed again as soon as they stepped out of the plane, but this time she had no words of comfort for him, no light-hearted stories. That tension doubled when they stepped inside. Before taking two steps, their path was blocked by an enormous man, easily a head taller than Bruce. The boy’s grip tightened, but Talia gave his hand a reassuring squeeze though her face remained impassive.

“Grind,” she addressed the man.

He smiled, and it sent shutters down her spine. Then, with a deceptively formal bow, he straightened and looked directly at her.

“Lady Talia.” His voice was thick and sweet. “You grace us with your presence.”

“My father requested it,” she replied calmly. “Therefore my presence graces him, not you. You may make yourself of service by telling me where I might find him.”

The corner of Grind’s mouth twitched as if he thought about sneering but held back. “Of course. You will find him in the library,” he said instead, making a magnanimous sweep of his hand towards the stairs. “I would be more than happy to escort you and your… companion.”

“I can find the way,” she replied stiffly, then looking down at Jason, added for his benefit. “Come, Robin.”


	15. Part XV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's really no excuse for almost a year hiatus. I just haven't really felt fandoms for a while, busy with work and such. But lately I've been itching to write again, so here it is. Hope you like it.

No matter the location, the vast libraries in her father’s many strong holds were among Talia’s favorite places to be. Like the outside, the inside of the fortress held many contradiction of technological marvels in one wing and ancient archives in places like this complete with comfortable couches and a fireplace. Even as they neared it when she should have been apprehensive, she felt herself relax.

Her father sat at the large mahogany table in the middle, bent over a piece of parchment with quill in hand. She knew the words on the pages were memoirs or something similar. As much as she knew he loved the more refined instruments, they were impractical for anything else. When she entered with Jason, her father’s gaze flicked up then back down, then up again as if it had taken him a second to register that she had not come alone. He straightened, putting his quill back in the ink well and looked at her. Talia knew it was their indication to step forward.

“Father,” she greeted.

“Talia.” He did not smile – Ra’s al Ghul rarely smiled lately – but his eyes were not unkind. “I trust you are well.”

“I am,” she affirmed. “Though I must say I would have been better if you had not bothered with the escort. Lady Shiva is most… unreasonable.”

“I can see that.” His eyes fell on Jason again. “Would I be correct in presuming this is the detective’s new protégé?”

“Yes.” Talia stepped behind Jason, placing both hands lightly on the child’s shoulders. His hood fell back. “This is Jason Todd. Jason, my father, Ra’s al Ghul.”

They eyed each other for a moment, and to her surprise – and mild annoyance – the boy spoke first. “You look pretty spry for a guy pushing six hundred.”

“Jason!”

But her father gave no indication he had taken the comment as an insult. The only reaction she noted was a slight quirk in the side of his mouth.

“Seven hundred, actually,” he told Jason, then looked at Talia and gave a curt tilt of his head. “Have him sent to your rooms. I wish to speak to you privately, daughter.”

Before her, Talia could feel Jason stiffen, his bravado falling away, and a part of her felt tense as well. Had she really expected her father to just declare the boy be returned to her beloved immediately? Not that she thought Ra's would intentionally harm Jason, but there was always the off chance he would think the effort of actually bringing him back to Gotham or calling Bruce to retrieve him would be a waste. She only hoped that perhaps her deception would sway any decision he made in Jason's favor. Her father still believed she had miscarried and despite their differences, the respect he held for Bruce would not allow him to take another child from him.

She straightened. “I would prefer to escort him myself.”

Ra's al Ghul was still for a moment, studying her from under sharp gray brows. Then, as if finding whatever he was searching for, his back relaxed and he nodded. “Very well.”

They passed several of her father's men in the hallway, a few of which sent Jason curious looks. Talia glared at those, and they instantly looked away focusing their gaze somewhere in the distant ahead of them. She took Jason's hand again, and the boy wrinkled his nose.

“You don't have to do that, you know.” He tilted his head at her. “I'm twelve, remember?”

“I know. It makes me feel better.” It was true.

Jason shrugged. “So that was the big bad Ra's al Ghul, huh? I thought he'd be... I dunno... scarier. Didn't seem so bad.”

Talia didn’t know what to say to that, so she said nothing. Thankfully they had reached her suites by that time. She pushed the door open, and Jason took a few cautious steps inside surveying the main room. The boy whistled.

“Whoa… you’ve got this whole… Frank Herbert/Dune thing going on here.”

Despite herself, the corner of Talia’s mouth quirked. She figured that Jason probably had a bigger book list that he let on, despite his apparently poor performance in English class. She wondered if Bruce knew. Immediately sobering, she straightened.

“I want you to remain here.” She told Jason. “My father and I must speak, but I will return very soon. I promise.”

“Yeah, sure.” He was already looking poking his head into the other rooms, examining the various artifacts and small balcony.

Still unnerved by his lack of concern but not knowing what to do about it, Talia closed the door behind herself and started for the library again. Her father still sat where she'd left him, fingers interlaced under his chin as he studied the papers in front of him. When he looked up at her, it was with the same piercing gaze she'd come to know meant business.

“The child will have to be returned to the detective.” He said without preamble.

“Of course.” Despite her near certainty of the outcome before, relief washed over her.

“But first,” Ra's stood and walked around the massive desk to face her more directly. “I wish to know why he is here in the first place.”

Talia frowned. “Lady Shiva...”

“Did as she would have been expected to. My question is why was he with you in the first place.”

She didn't reply, knowing nothing she said would be a good enough lie to satisfy him. Ra's al Ghul sighed and taking a few steps forward, placed both hands on her shoulders.

“Talia,” there was real gentleness, perhaps even a hint of sorrow in his voice. “I am your father, and I care for you. I know your grief, so do not think me cruel for what I am about to say and take it to heart: you cannot keep this boy. He is not the child that was lost. Not your son.”

 _But he might have been_ , a voice inside her cried. _Might still be._

Aloud all she said was, “I understand.”

“Then you understand how little all this matters in the grand scheme. I am sorry for your hurt in this moment, in these months, but it will pass. We must keep our focus on the mission above all else.”

_Above love? Above family and children?_

But somehow past the lump in her throat, she managed to keep her voice even.

“Yes, Father.”

* * * * * * * * * *

By default Dick came directly to the cave. By that point, Bruce had completed his preparations. He noticed the young man was looking around, most likely noting the changes and upgrades. Had it really been that long since he'd been here? At least half a year or so. He finally turned to face him, and Bruce was a bit startled to realize that he almost didn't recognize him. Not because he'd somehow changed physically, but the youth looked... darker, angrier than Bruce had ever seen him except perhaps for the time of their last meeting.

The teen finally noticed him descending from the platform and walked forward to meet him. His face seemed to relax slightly. The domino mask was on, but Bruce was still dressed in civilian clothes – something Dick obviously found strange if his frown was any indication – so there were no lenses to impede their eyes meeting. Dick raised his hand and spoke before he could even think on the appropriate way to great him.

“Before you say anything,” the youth began, “I need to know something; is this about Jason Todd?” Something on Bruce’s face must have given indication of surprise. The angry look was back in a flash. “Yeah, I know about the kid, no thanks to you! From the Daily Planet, of all places! So before you tell me what I'm doing here, I want an explanation on that one. I think I deserve it.”

He wasn’t just angry, Bruce realized. He was furious and jealous and a hair width’s away from never speaking to him again. The older man pressed his lips into a thin line.

“You're right.” He nodded solemnly. “You _do_ deserve better, but this isn't just about Jason. There's a lot that...”

“I don't care about whatever else is going on!” Dick cut him of. “Start with the kid. Who is he? Where'd you get him from? Do you...” He bit his lower lip, his voice going almost inaudibly quiet. “Do you intend to make him Robin?”

There was a brief pause. “Yes.”

“And you didn't think I should know?!” Dick exploded. “You didn't think to ask if I wanted to share the costume I practically grew up in _before_ I met you? You didn't think to ask if I minded hearing some street punk being called the name _my_ mother gave me?”

“That's enough!” It was Bruce's turn to raise his voice. “First of all, you don't know Jason, and that's my fault, but you have no right to judge him. He's had a hard life, Dick. Harder than yours and harder than mine, and he's twelve. I know I deserve whatever anger you feel, but he doesn't.”

It must have hit home. Jealous or not, he knew Dick couldn't seriously hate a child, let alone one he's never met. The teen didn't apologize outright, but blew out a deep breath and looked at the ground, a gesture of contrition Bruce remembered from his earlier years. His own voice returned to normal.

“Second, you need to listen. There's a lot going on, more than I know how to explain. I need you to...”

“Try.” Dick interrupted again, but this time there was no fury. “Try to explain. Look, I'm mad. I'm not going to pretend I'm not, but if we're going to do this, _not_ ignore each other anymore, things have to be different. I'm not a kid anymore, Bruce. You can't just give an order and expect me to go 'Sir, yes, sir' without understanding. What's going on?”

His first instinct was to rebuttal, to admonish the teen for interrupting, and tell him to do as he was told. But Talia had been right; the fight was ridiculous, and at the moment, Dick was acting like more of an adult than he was. Leaning back against the console of the massive computer, he told him of the last six months, of taking in Jason, his brief alliance with Ra's, and ending with Talia's recent visit. Dick listened carefully, a slight frown creasing his brows.

“Talia kidnapped Jason?” he clarified.

“No. Lady Shiva confirmed that she forced them to travel together. She thought Ra's might be interested in whoever his daughter was keeping company with.”

“That...” Dick shook his head, “that makes no sense. I mean, no offense, I know you like her and everything, but you were really okay with her hanging out with your twelve-year-old alone? That doesn't sound like the typical control freak you. There's something else, isn't there?”

There was only a brief pause this time. “Talia's pregnant.”

Dick stared, his mouth opening and closing with no words coming out.

“I... don't even know what to begin to say,” he finally managed.

“'Congratulations' seems appropriate.” Bruce quipped.

“That's not exactly the word that comes to mind. Are you... have you even heard of...” The teen was still gaping at him, shaking his head. “You know what? Nevermind. I don't know why I'm surprised. I guess, I figured that Mr. Always-Be-Prepared would...”

He hung his head and actually laughed under his breath. Bruce crossed his arms, glaring.

“You done?”

“Yeah, I'm done.” Still chuckling, Dick cleared his throat and looked up. “You think that this changes everything? You, her, and the Brady Bunch? One big happy family?”

That note of jealousy was back, and Bruce wished he had time to reassure the teen that any family that came out of this, he would always be a part of it, but now was not the time. He'd lost a lot of that already. Later, when both Jason and Talia were back with them, there would be time for explanations and reconciliations. 

“She did indicate that she was going to stay.” He hoped it came out with conviction.

“Okay.” The teen's face remained neutral, so even Bruce couldn't read how much of that Dick really believed. “So you're about to go in after them, guns blazing. Excuse the expression.” He added belatedly. “Want backup? Is that why you called?”

“No.” Bruce shook his head. “I called because I want you here in Gotham. Someone should be here to watch the city, and there's no one I trust more.”

Dick straightened. “You never called before. Four months ago when you were in the Middle-East.”

“I was wrong. I should have.” He paused as if listening to his own words and shook his head. “I've been doing that a lot lately.”

“What?”

“Admitting I'm wrong.”

“Huh.” Dick smirked, crossing his arms. “And who do I have to thank for that small miracle? Wait, don't tell me: Talia.”

His lack of denial must have been confirmation enough for the teen, who rolled his eyes before his expression turned serious again. He nodded in the direction of the computer.

“Okay. Fill me in: how's Gotham been lately? Anything in particular I should watch out for?”

* * * * * * * * * *

Talia was glad to be heading back to her suites, away from her father and having to lie to him, and away from the prying eyes of everyone in the complex. Whatever happened in the coming days when Bruce arrived, all she wanted to do now was get a few hours of rest. And she should see how her young charge was fairing, Talia mused. Perhaps she would have dinner sent up. She should maintain a sense of normalcy and schedule, and the boy should eat, even if she could barely keep anything down.

“Jason?”

The double-doors swung open, and her eyes immediately went to the flapping curtain of the wide open balcony. Anxiety rising, she quickly checked the rest of the suite, but somehow already knew she would find nothing.

Jason was gone.


	16. Part XVI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey not bad! Not too terribly late. ^^;; I’m totally getting my groove back! All Talia and Jason in this chapter. Speaking of which, finale of Batman Inc.? No, just no. Can we have another reboot please? And someone other than Morrison writing Talia? Someone who actually read Batman comics before. Kthxbye.

There was a search called on, of course. Her father ordered a handful of his men, including Grind much to Talia's distaste, to look for Jason. They knew the area while the boy was completely out of his element. It should not have taken long. Realistically, he should not have even been about to leave the compound.

Still the hours ticked away, and Talia could not help but wonder which was worse: for him to be out in the burning afternoon sun or in the bitter cold evening that was quickly approaching. Jason was a city kid. As hard as it was to believe, she knew the streets of Gotham with the city's thugs and drug lords and pimps was a safer place for Jason than the emptiness of the desert. So many ways to die...

“You don't look well,” Dr. Weltmann noted with concern.

They were alone in her suites. Talia sat very still on the edge of her bed while the older woman looked down on her in obvious concern. Had it been almost anyone else, Talia might have snapped back or at least glared, but Dr. Weltmann knew her, knew her secret and had agreed to keep it at the risk of earning the wrath of Ra's al Ghul himself.

“I will be fine,” Talia replied evenly, “as soon as Jason returns unharmed. I cannot fathom why he ran away in the first place. If something happens to him... He must know how dangerous it is here. I told him to remain close.”

Dr. Weltmann said nothing, but there was little to say. Talia already knew what the woman must be thinking. It was the same thought that was eating away at her; no matter what kind of bond she thought she forged with the boy, he had no real reason to trust her. All he knew for certain was that he was thousands of miles away from home, from his father, in an enemy camp. From what she knew of Jason's bravado, he might have very well thought he could somehow make it back on his own.

“You think I should have never gone to Gotham.” She finally looked up at the other woman.

“Unequivocally,” Dr. Weltmann confirmed without flinching. “Not in your current condition. You are good at keeping secrets, but only those you truly wish to keep.” She sighed and crossed her arms. “I presume the Batman knows?” Talia nodded. “Does this boy?”

“No. Though he did notice something aims. He thinks I am ill. It troubles him greatly.”

“It troubles me too.” The woman looked at her severely. “You cannot afford to continue to stress like this unless else you want to face a very real chance of miscarriage and make this whole deception and pain a complete waste of time.”

“Jason is here because of me.” Talia shot back. “I am obligated to return him to his father safely, and I have failed miserably thus far.”

“And I am obligated to report everything to _your_ father,” Weltmann argued. “Yet here we are. I kept your secret, at risk to myself, because that is what you asked.” She took a deep breath. “I will bring you something to eat, something mild, and then you _will_ rest, regardless whether they bring the boy back by then.”

Talia was too tired to argue and let the doctor leave without another word. Surely – _surely!_ – this would not have happened under her beloved's watch. Jason would have listened to his father. He might have complained, but he would have done as he was told. He trusted Bruce. It was yet another example of why she did not belong with them.

At some point she must have slept, sprawled gracelessly across the massive bed. In her dream, she was barefoot, sand sliding between her toes. It was a desert, but it not the peaceful rolling dunes she was used to. Rather it had the look of some kind of post-apocalyptic wasteland, smoke and fires and debris strewn everywhere as if from a recent explosion.

A figure rose from the ashes ahead of her, and she knew by the black caped silhouette that it was the Batman. He had his back to her but even so she could tell he was holding something in his arms, a burden far greater than its slight physical weight. Talia could just barely catch glimpses of red and green and yellow, bright colors in contrast to the horror around.

A body.

She was startled out of the dream by a firm knock on the door. Her heart hammered, but Talia was immensely grateful for the reprieve. She did not usually suffer nightmares, the worst being those of witnessing her mother’s death, and this one felt different. Less like a simple dream and more like…

Talia did not want to think about it.

“Enter,” she called out, pushing herself out of the bed and taking a few steps towards the door. She fully expected Dr. Weltmann, but not the small squad of men behind her. Grind stepped forward and shoved a small figure at her. There was a gleeful sneer on his lips that made her go cold and rigid all at once. She looked down, and suddenly her dream came rushing back to her all over again.

Jason looked awful. Where exposed, his naturally pale skin was an angry red, clearly badly sunburned. The heels of his palms were scraped bloody, as if he’d fallen and landed hard on them. The torn holes on the knees of his trousers supported that. An assortment of additional cuts and scratches could be seen here and there, but the worst was an massive bruise that blackened the skin all around his left cheekbone.

Out of the corner of her eye, Talia saw Grind grin maliciously.

She straightened, feeling the ice spread through her veins like poison. Almost instantly the mantel of the cold ruthless daughter of Ra's al Ghul was back, and her hand flew at its own accord connecting with a sharp sting with the side of Grind's face. He did not move a muscle. It probably hurt her more than him, but Talia did not let it show. She fixed the man with a hard impassive look.

“If you _ever_ lay a hand on _my_ child again, I will make you wish for death. Believe that.”

She spoke to all the attending men, but her eyes were firmly on Grind, the only one who looked unruffled. It annoyed her, but now was not the time. She gave them all a once over, satisfied that most looked appropriately terrified.

“Get out,” she ordered, and within seconds the room was emptied save for her, Jason, and Dr. Weltmann. The older woman took a step towards her but not too close.

“I can take him to the medical ward,” she offered gently. Talia could do nothing but shake her head, and the woman nodded. “Then I'll bring you a first aid kit.”

“Thank you.”

She stood very still until the doctor was out and the door was firmly closed. Then all her attention returned to Jason. The look on his face mirrored each and every cut and bruise on his body, dark and angry. He clearly needed medical attention, not to mention the sun burn needed to be looked at immediately.

“I will give you three options,” she said quietly, kneeling in front of him. They were at eye level, but the boy's gaze was firmly fixed on the floor. “You can go to the washroom and let me help you clean up and see to your injuries, you can tell me why you ran away, or both. I would much prefer the third option but the choice is yours.”

His jaw tightened, hands balled up in fists, and for one terrible second she thought he might attempt to hit her. It would do no good – trained by Batman or not, there was no way a twelve-year-old would ever come close to touching her – but it would hurt in ways far worse than physical. Then his hands dropped, and the boy stalked angrily towards the washroom without a word.

Option one it was.

Dr. Weltmann returned to the suite and left again in total silence, leaving only the medical kit on the edge of the bath. Talia simply nodded her thanks and went back to cleaning the sand off of Jason's knees, gingerly dabbing at the scrapes with a cotton ball of hydrogen peroxide. It must have stung, but the boy did not so much as wince.

“Hold this, please.” She drew the ice pack towards his face and put his hand over it. Almost as soon as she touched him, Jason flinched away. The ice pack fell to the tiled floor. Talia sighed, picked it up, and rose to rinse it.

“Sorry,” Jason mumbled behind her.

Talia turned back slowly, careful to keep her expression neutral. She knelt by him again, ice packed wrapped in a towel, and held it to his cheek herself this time.

“Can you tell me what happened now?” she asked. “I am not angry, Jason. I _was_ scared, and I am _furious_ with the man who hurt you, but I am not angry with you.”

“ _Tt_ , yeah right,” the boy scoffed and turned away from her.

Talia frowned but pressed further. “What does that mean?”

He did not answer, and she could see that it would lead to another long and arduous silent treatment. She would not let that happen. Talia grasped his chin between her thumb and forefinger and forced the boy to look at her.

“I am not Bruce,” she said firmly, looking him straight in the eyes intensely. “He may be reluctant to confront your behavior, but I am not. I believe I am due an explanation, Jason. You scared me today, worse than I have ever been scared in a very long time, and I do not think I deserved it. Unless I am wrong. If so, please tell me how I have offended you.”

He was glaring at her now, but at least he spoke. “I heard what you and the old man were talking about.”

Talia was not in the least bit surprised he had been spying but for the life of her could not remember what part of the conversation with her father could have made him run away in the middle of a foreign hostile land. What she did remember, she latched onto.

“Then you heard that he fully intends to return you to your father.” She did not bother editing herself. Bruce _was_ his father, and it was about time they both began to act like it.

The child bit his lower lip but said nothing. He _had_ overheard that part, Talia realized. Something else was bothering him.

“What is it, Jason?” she tried again more gently. “Tell me.”

She thought he might stonewall her again, but Jason surprised her. In a single long exhale, the hard solder of Batman was gone, replaced by a very small, very sad twelve-year-old boy.

“He was talking about how you were supposed to... move on and forget about Bruce, I guess, and stay here.” He mumbled. “And you didn't argue with him. I figured that means... you're not coming back to Gotham with us when Bruce comes and gets me.”

Talia could almost feel cold phantom fingers reaching for her heart, like it might break at any moment. How was she supposed to explain it to this child? What was she supposed to say to make him understand the depth of her conflict? Was it even fair to try?

“Do you love your father, Jason?” A small crease appeared between his brows. “Bruce. Do you love him?”

Predictably the word choices made him uncomfortable. The boy squirmed a little on the edge of the porcelain tub. “I guess...”

“I love my father, too.” She explained. “You might imagine that it would be as hard for me to leave mine as it would be for you to leave yours.”

“I _had_ a dad before,” Jason countered almost immediately. “He sucked. He was a total looser. Wasn't hard getting rid of him.”

“Maybe.” She suspected he was underplaying it at least in part. “Perhaps it... hurt a little less because he was not truly your father, not the father you were meant to have.”

The look the boy gave her then was painful to witness. It was tired and hollow. Like she was talking about something she could not possibly understand, and he pitied her for it. He hung his head.

“Bruce doesn’t think of me like that.”

“Of course he does.” She loved the man, but sometimes his inability to communicate his feelings clearly or worse, his fear of them, was daunting. Jason and Richard deserved better. Her unborn baby deserved to have a father who would be unafraid to show his love and pride. “We spoke of this.”

“You did?” Jason might have been too surprised to be angry.

“Yes.” Bruce might not be thrilled at her having reviled this, but if she waited, there was a good chance she would wait till some cataclysmic event for him to do so. “Do you know what happened to his parents?” Jason nodded. “They were good people and loved him very much, and he them in turn. You must understand that for him, no caregiver could ever replace them. He believes the same is true for everyone.”

“Not everyone.” The boy’s small moth was a tight line.

“I know.” She squeezed his arm in a gesture of comfort. “Perhaps when you are reunited, you might speak to him on the matter.”

Jason was quiet again, but it was a thoughtful rather than angry silence so she let him have it.

“Talia?” She could not recall him ever using her given name.

“Yes, Jason?”

When he spoke next, it was the last thing she ever expected to hear.

“I’m really sorry about your baby.”

It took only half-a-heartbeat for her to understand that he had overheard that from the same conversation she had had with her father. She had grown so used to lying to the immortal about it in the past few months that her mind did not even register it as important when Jason had mentioned he had been listening in on their conversation. It was shockingly easy to maintain the deception with her father now, but when Jason said it, her eyes welled with tears.

Obviously misinterpreting her reaction, the boy’s own azure eyes went wide. A second later he was in her arms, hugging her fiercely as if offering whatever comfort he could. She could do nothing but wrap her own arms around his small frame as he buried his face in the crook of her neck.

“I’m sorry.” He repeated, voice muffled against her skin. “If you come back to Gotham with us…”

He trailed off, but she knew what he wanted to say. If she came back to Gotham, they could be a family. She could be with her beloved and keep both of her children, even if Jason did not realize he would still be an older brother in the near future. His grief at her false loss gave her hope that perhaps he was not quite so averse to the idea as Bruce had predicted he would be.

Talia thought about how, after she had backhanded Grind, she had warned him never to touch her son again. Jason had to have heard that, but for all his silent fury in that moment, he had not lashed out at her unconscious choice of words, words that had become part of her heart somewhere along the way. She meant every word when she had told the boy that Bruce was the father he was meant to have. Perhaps the same was true for her; Jason was meant to be her son no matter whose womb he came from.

 _The two of you_ , she thought silently at her unborn baby, while holding the elder in her arms. _A child of the flesh, and a child of the heart._


	17. Part XVII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talia makes a lot of comparisons between Bruce and Odysseus, the highly intelligent and cunning warrior-king from the Iliad and the Odyssey. He was a leader, a warrior, but above all, a man who wanted nothing more to be with his family. I think the comparison is apt, especially since Odysseus' wife and son didn't exactly sit on their butts either while he was off at the Trojan War or at sea.

The fact that Thomas Wayne had been a doctor in life had somehow remained significant to Bruce many years after his father had been taken from him. Bruce had a good head for business, but had the man lived, he sometimes imagined himself following in his father’s footsteps. He might have even gone into pediatrics. Perhaps that need to preserve life had been passed down from his father somehow. Sometimes Bruce wondered if that was the only thing that kept him from crossing the line.

He was glad for it, for that barrier of the image of what his father would have hoped for him. Without it, one ‘necessary’ death would turn to ten and a hundred, and one day he would wake up as what Ra’s al Ghul, not his father, wanted him to be. As it stood, he was probably somewhere in the middle. Neither Thomas nor Martha Wayne would not have approved of Batman, but then they might not have understood that the alternative was a slow wasting death by grief and bitterness.

Sometimes he also wondered if it wasn’t a matter of age. Ironically enough, he recalled Talia telling him once that Ra’s had also been a physician centuries ago in his mortal life, before he had discovered the Lazarus Pit. The man was not inherently evil per se, not like the Joker who thrived on chaos and anarchy or Luthor whose selfishness and greed was rivaled only by his megalomania. On the contrary, the immortal had a sense of honor and purpose that Batman rarely saw in anyone on the other side of the line. His goals in and of themselves – the restoration of the environment and keeping humans from destroying the earth – were noble. It was his methods Bruce had a problem with, his unquestioning belief that the ends justified any means. Maybe if he lived for as long as the immortal had, he would grow just as cynical. Thankfully there was no danger of that.

But cynicism or not, Ra’s still needed something that, in his mind, would be a good reason to take a life, which is why Bruce was not entirely surprised when a communication request from the cave blinked on the display of his private jet.

“Want to explain to me why Ra’s would just leave a personal message for you?” Dick’s voice was quizzical.

“He probably sent it to all of the frequencies I use as Batman,” Bruce mused, “and didn’t think I’d take the jet. What did he say?”

“I didn’t open it,” the teen replied. “Aside from the I-really-don’t-want-to-know factor of this whole thing, I’m past the age of needing to snoop into something marked ‘private’ for you. Patching it through now.”

Bruce almost smiled at that, then his face turned serious as he listened to the recording. It was brief, and when it finished, he switched back to the cave’s frequency. Dick was still on.

“Jason’s fine.” He said without preamble. “Ra’s also confirmed the location Shiva gave me. He expects me there within two days to pick Jason up.”

“Guess you’re going to be early,” Dick mused. “I don’t suppose he said anything about Talia?”

Bruce pressed his lips together. “No.”

“Right,” the teen cleared his throat. “I’ll call you if anything else comes up here. Any particular way you want me to direct earth-shattering disasters?”

“If they’re outside Gotham, call Kent or Diana.”

“Sure thing. Because I have the numbers of all mystical amazon islands.” He could practically hear Dick rolling his eyes.

“The Daily Planet’s directory is in the public listings,” he replied curtly then paused before adding, “and number two on the computer’s speed-dial.”

Dick laughed. It was good to hear it again. “Who beat out the blue boyscout at number one?”

“Dick, focus.”

“Right. Okay, I got Gotham. League handles everything else.” There was a pause and the sound of shuffling in the background. “Look, it’s almost eleven here, and I want to head out a little early and reorient myself. Let me know if you need anything. Good luck.”

The line went dead. Bruce reached out to the main console and put the small private plane in auto-pilot. The course was laid in, and it would be at least several more hours until he would have to make any kind of manual adjustments. The Batwing would have been faster, but it was tight even for two people.

Bruce still held out hope for returning with three.

* * * * * * * * * *

By now Talia had learned to read Jason’s moods fairly well. One might have thought it odd considering how recently she had come to know the boy, but then little in her world was ordinary. She could differentiate between the angry sulking silences and the thoughtful ones and knew enough to see that this was a completely different kind of quiet, a sad one. She could say nothing with absolute honesty, so Talia remained silent as well throughout their shared meal. Nothing that was set before her was too offensive, so for once she was able to finish almost everything on her plate.

Jason, on the other hand, prodded his lamb listlessly. She knew enough from Bruce to know that it was not good. Street kids – former or otherwise – rarely refused food. She could not give him false hope, but something had to be done. But before she could think of what to say there was a knock at the door. Dr. Weltmann entered, shutting the door behind her, but did not stray far from it. Talia took the cue, rose from their table near the balcony, and walked over to the older woman.

“Your father left a message for the detective,” the doctor informed her.

“He did not speak to him directly?” Talia frowned.

“No.” The other woman shook her head. “But one way or another, I’m sure he’ll receive it. Here:” She reached into the pocket of her lab coat, pulled out a bottle, and handed it to her. “I know you must have left yours in Gotham, as you were… extracted in a hurry.”

Talia looked down at the bottle of prenatal vitamins. She had all but forgotten about them. She glanced briefly at Jason, but he was not really watching them. Twisting off the lid, she extracted a single pill, closed her hand around it, and slipped the rest of the small bottle into a pocket within her robes.

“Thank you.” She inclined her head in gratitude.

Dr. Weltmann nodded then looked over her shoulder at Jason. “How’s the boy? That bruise looks terrible.”

Talia grimaced. “Grind should have his hands cut off for this.”

If it had been her so much as scratched intentionally by one of her father’s people, that man would have suffered a very swift and final death. She _could_ have Grind executed. Ra’s thought he was effective enough at what he did, but if Talia asked, it would be done. The problem was not her own father, but Jason’s. She knew Bruce would not approve, and while personally Talia had no great moral qualms about it, she did not want to show Jason that something his father did not consider to be an option was one.

She could – and most certainly would – have him punished though. Short of demanding limbs or outright death as recompense, there was plenty she could do to ensure that the brute thought twice about ever crossing her or laying a hand on another child ever again. Talia made a mental note to speak to her father on the matter.

“Dose my father plan to leave this facility any time soon?” she asked.

“Not that I know of,” the doctor shook her head. “Why?”

“I want to come down to medical,” Talia glanced pointedly down at her still-flat abdomen, “ensure that everything is still... alright.”

“Good.” Dr. Weltmann nodded approvingly. “I can make the appropriate excused for that if needed. Have you thought about...”

Talia shook her head. It was cowardly, she knew it, but she had reached her limit of the topic of her future. She could see little past ensuring that Jason was healed and returned to his father safely. Besides the boy was still in the room, and no matter how quietly they were talking or how hard he pretended otherwise, she knew he was probably straining to listen in.

“Alright.” The doctor inclined her head in understanding. “I’ll leave you to rest. Let me know if you need anything.”

Talia thanked her and returned to the table. The pill was still in her hand, and she quickly swallowed it with a gulp of water from her glass. Jason, who had been quiet this the whole time, suddenly snapped his head up. She could not fathom why he looked so startled when he clearly had not guessed enough of the conversation or his reaction would have been much more immediate.

“What’s that?” he demanded sharply.

“Vitamins.” There was no real reason to lie about that. Many people took supplements for a verity of reasons.

“Vitamins?” the boy repeated, as if he did not believe her. “Because you were sick before? On the plane.”

Talia frowned, choosing to tread very carefully. “Yes.”

His lips moved without sound, and he rubbed his nose with the back of his hand in what she had learned to recognize as a nervous tell. She thought back to the plane, to his near panic when he thought she was ill. He had told her Bruce knew but that they had not spoken of it. The answer was on the tip of her tongue but Talia could not quite piece it together completely.

“I am not ill.” Lacking anything else, the best she could do was reassure him. Seeing the skeptical look on the boy’s face, she amended. “Rather, it _is_ true that I have not been feeling well lately, but it is neither permanent nor dangerous. In fact,” she quirked a smile, “I could probably take on your father in single combat.”

“He wouldn’t hit a girl.” Jason rolled his eyes, but he was smiling as well. She noticed with some satisfaction that he stopped flinching at the familial term. Talia raised a brow, and he bit his lip. “Well, unless she was a criminal. Like Poison Ivy or something. Then it’s okay.”

She could not help but smile. The boy had a sense of honor, and she suspected that not all of it was entirely due to Bruce. Somehow with all he suffered in the first decade of life, the streets if Gotham had not killed all sense of justice and goodness within him. _A good sign_ , she decided. Rage could be tempered and channeled. Doubtless that was what her beloved had had in mind when he had taken the Jason in in the first place.

The boy tilted his head slightly, the concern back in his eyes as he regarded her soberly. “You’re really not sick?”

“No, darling.”

“And you’re not doing something dumb… like,” he suddenly found the polished table top fascinating, “like drugs or some crap like that?”

“No!”

In an instant alarm bells were going off full blast in Talia’s head, and the utter shocked look on her face actually seemed to have the opposite effect on him. Within a seconds his features went from cautious to surprised and finally surprisingly to somewhat relax. Talia could not let it go though. She was at a loss for words and took his smaller hands into her own across the table.

“Jason... is this about what you think is ‘stupid’, but I suspect otherwise?” She ventured a guess. “Whatever Bruce knows but has not spoken to you about?”

“Kinda,” he fidgeted. “Okay, yeah.”

She waited for him to continue on his own. Talia had learned by now that sometimes getting any information out of the child was worse than trying to get it out of Bruce. Patience was key. Jason sighed, drew his hands away, his fingers curling into loose fists. He was still staring at the table top, and when he finally spoke, his voice was somehow distant and far too devoid of emotion.

“My mom got sick,” he said quietly. “I don't actually remember when. I think I was very little. I don't remember her being... okay all that much. I told Bruce she died because she was sick, but I know he checked that stuff. 'Cause... you know, he's Batman.”

“That he is.” There was a lump forming in her throat. Now that Jason had begun his tale, she suddenly had a good idea what kind of ending it was headed for.

“She would ask me to go pick up her medicine sometimes,” he continued, “when she couldn't get out of bed. I figured out that... it wasn't really medicine, so I said I wouldn't get it for her anymore, but then the dealers came by and trashed our place and beat me up and took all the money anyway. And then she just... didn't wake up one day,” Jason finished with a small shrug, his voice still flat, though his hands had drown limp and cold in hers. “So I guess it didn't really matter in the end.”

Until that moment, Talia thought she knew the world. She was well-traveled and had witnessed and even ordered actions that lead to the deaths of others. She had seen bodies turned inside out, limbs scattered across battle fields. She had seen what Gotham's East End was like and knew that was where Jason came from, but until now, it was an abstract in her mind, something relayed to her – likely in a milder version – by Bruce.

Knowing the boy now and hearing the account from his own mouth, Talia realized that thus far all her knowledge and even experiences had provided her with nothing more than a gray, sheltered view of the world. Her own mother's murder at the hands of Qayin had been a tragedy, but she was still the daughter of Ra's al Ghul. She had grown up privileged, even entitled. Jason's entire life before Bruce had taken him from the streets was a string of horrors, and Talia had never hated anyone as much as she now hated the dead woman who had chosen drugs over her child.

Slowly rising from her seat, she came around the table and gently cupped his face in both palms. She half expected him to cry, but he did not. Talia wondered what it meant that he had shed tears for her false loss but not for himself. It was a miracle Gotham had not snuffed out that much empathy.

“I am so sorry you had to live through that.” Talia held his gaze and tried to infuse her voice with all the compassion she could muster. “It was unimaginably cruel and unjust and unfair to you. Your mother...” she pressed her lips together to keep herself from saying something hateful. “You did nothing to deserve that. Anyone should have been grateful to have you for a son.”

He squirmed a little, clearly embraced, then glanced up at her. “If... if you still had your baby, you wouldn't do that kind of shit.”

Heart hammering in her throat, she only managed. “Never.”

“And Bruce... he does okay with me,” Jason went on. “I mean, he's not always Mr. Sunshine, but I think he tries.”

“He does.” She assured him. “He loves you very much.”

He seemed to consider that, then nodded. “You'd make a good mom, I think. You... explain stuff and patch people up and... and tell stories. Moms are supposed to do all that, right?”

“I imagine so.” Talia did not want to say that she had little memory for comparison. Instead she bent down and kissed the top of his head. “Thank you, Jason. That means a lot to me. And thank you for telling your own story. I know it must have been painful to remember, but I am honored you shared it with me.”

He simply nodded, apparently not yet ready to deal with the emotions. “Can you tell me the rest of the _Odyssey_ now?”

“Ah, so it _was_ a story you were fishing for after all.”

She smiled and, taking his hand, lead him to the one of the many ottomans. Arranging her robes, Talia pretended to think, then wrapped an arm around the boy's shoulders and brushed back one of his stray curls.

“I will tell you of Odysseus' wife and his son, Penelope and Telemachus.” She began. “For their adventures were no less impressive than the warrior-king's.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dear Telemachus,  
>  The Trojan War   
> is over now; I don't recall who won it.   
> The Greeks, no doubt, for only they would leave  
> so many dead so far from their own homeland.   
> But still, my homeward way has proved too long. 
> 
> ~~ Odysseus to Telemachus, by Joseph Brodsky


	18. Part XVIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do any of my readers speak Russian btw? I was born there and actually came to the states when I was seven. Last time I referenced a poem by Joseph Brodsky regarding Odysseus and his son, Telemachus. This time, Talia mentions a story/epic poem here that my grandfather used to read to me as a child, and like Talia, I really did know it by heart by the time I was five. In Russian :) I felt like it was appropriate. Summary in the author's end note.

“Talia?”

A familiar voice cut through her doze. Talia yawned and opened her eyes, momentarily disoriented until she remembered that she had gone to the library. Jason had fallen asleep soon after Odysseus' return to Ithaca, and she had taken the time to be alone for a little while and stole away to the library. A guard was left outside the door to her suites, just in case Jason decided to run again for some reason.

She ended up falling asleep in one of the massive cushioned chairs, a book still laying open on her stomach. Her father was standing over her, his deep brown eyes studying her carefully. Talia blinked and rubbed her eyes tiredly.

“Apologies, Father.” She closed the book and pushed herself up straighter.

“None required.” He glanced at the leather cover and the gold Cyrillic letters. “Alexander Pushkin. I recall reading it to you when you were a girl. If I recall correctly, _Руслан и Людмила_ was a particular favorite.”

“An epic romance, a brave heroine, a gallant warrior, magic and an evil wizard. I think I knew every verse by heart why the time I was five.” She smiled fondly. “It is unfortunate no English translation has been able to do it justice.”

Her father's eyes lingered on the book, then he sank down next to her with a heavy sigh and gently took it from her hands, a finger held in place where she had been reading before falling asleep. He was quiet for a long time, and it seemed to Talia that he was much older. The battle with Qayin four months prior had taken its toll on everyone, and even Ra's al Ghul was no exception.

“Daughter, what can I do to ease your melancholy?” he asked finally.

It was moments like this that her beloved did not see and therefore could not understand why she loved her father so fiercely. Talia's smile was sad, but she reached over and squeezed the old man's hand.

“Nothing, Father. As you say, it will pass.” She lied. “I am simply... weary, and being here, among the tales of old, helps. I was... looking for a book for Jason, something he might take home with him.”

Ra's nodded absently. “I wish things had turned out differently.”

_None wish for it more than I. I am weary of constantly being torn between you and Bruce, of not going a day without the desire to weep, of fear for the fate of my unborn child, of my inability to tell Jason something true and have him believe me._

Aloud all she could say was, “As do I.”

“I was thinking,” her father began carefully, “it may be wise for you to get away for a while.”

Talia frowned. “You had me... extracted from Gotham less than three days ago.”

“And I am not suggesting you go back,” he shook his head. “I firmly believe you need distance from the detective for many reasons. And as sad as it is for me to admit, you may need distance from me as well. I imagine you very well may hold me partially responsible for the recent tragedies.”

Talia was about to say that was not so, that he was her father and she loved him, but quickly closed her mouth. One did not exclude the other, she realized. She _did_ love her father, always would, but there was no doubt he held some responsibility for her current distress.

“Where would you have me go?” She asked quietly.

“Perhaps Dubai,” he offered. “We have several business matters in the area you might attend to for me, and it would give you a chance to do something else, rest a bit. You are, of course, welcome to return at any time. Or not go at all if you do not feel it is necessary. I only want what is best for you, Talia.”

She did not comment on that, but instead asked, “What about Jason?”

“As I told you, he will be returned to the detective. I have already notified him.” Her father said. “That is another reason it may be best for to be elsewhere and not endure the needless pain of seeing him again.”

Everything about what he was saying sounded both right and wrong at the same time save for the very last part. She shook her head.

“I do not trust your men around the boy.” Talia replied adamantly. “Have you _seen_ what Grind did to him? I had half-a-mind to demand his head. Still do.”

“Grind informed me he was resistant.”

“He is twelve years old!” Talia was indignant. “They were all grown men several times his size, and he is a child! In what world are their actions justifiable?”

“One in which he is not _your_ child, not of our flesh.” Ra's al Ghul was on his feet once more and looked down on her severely. “Grind and the rest of the men are loyal, capable tools. They are useful. This boy is not. I know the detective has a soft spot for strays, but you know better.”

Talia felt like her world had screeched to a grinding halt and now did not know which direction to start spinning again. None of this should have been news to her. She knew how much emphasis her father put on blood and lineage, knew how little regard he had individual people with very few exceptions. His was a larger endgame, one in which sacrifices were expected, and the cost of victory might very well be entire cities.

Jason would be protected, of that she had no doubt. He had been needlessly hurt, yes, but Ra's would ensure he was returned to Bruce whether she was there to oversee this or not. But the boy himself meant nothing to her father. It was simply a sign of respect and good faith towards the Batman. Had Bruce _not_ found Jason when he did... had her father ever directly targeted Gotham.... had the life growing within her even now been born to someone else...

Slowly her world began to turn again.

“You are right, of course.” She took a deep breath to regain her composure, then stood to face her father. “Might I have the rest of the night to think about your suggesting regarding Dubai?”

“Of course.” The immortal inclined his head, seemingly satisfied. “You have but to ask and your plane will be made ready.”

“Thank you, Father.”

He hugged her, and Talia reciprocated, acting as if nothing was wrong. She was used to doing that, but where there was fear before, resolve now bloomed.

She knew what had to be done.

Her pace was calm and measured as she made her way through the halls, but once back in her own suites. She dismissed both guards, and as soon as the doors closed behind her, Talia sprang into action. Jason was sleeping soundly on the large couch. She hated to interrupt his sleep, but there was precious little time and things that had to be do. But first there was something she had to know.

“Jason.” Kneeling by the couch, she gently shook the boy's shoulder. “Wake, child.”

There was a sharp intake of breath as he came awake. The boy blinked and rubbed his eyes, then after focusing on her, propped himself up on an elbow. He yawned.

“What time is it?”

“Very late.” Talia spoke softly. “I am sorry to disturb you, but we must speak.”

“'Kay.” With another yawn, he pushed himself up to a sitting position. “What's up?”

Talia also moved to sit on the edge of the couch, but her moss green eyes held his own.

“I need to know how you escaped from this room when you ran away yesterday.”

“Huh?” He seemed confused by the question.

“No one saw you leave the compound,” she elaborated. “I know you were near my father's study when were were speaking, but this place is very large and the hallways are a veritable maze. How did you make it out without anyone spotting you so quickly?”

“Oh, that.” Jason grinned. “I climbed.”

“Climbed?”

“The wall outside.” He jabbed his thumb towards her open balcony. Talia stared. They were over fifty feet above ground. Noting her confusion, Jason made a grabbing gesture with his hands. “Most of it has these bricks or rocks or something that stick out. They're pretty regular, and I'm not that big, so I just grabbed onto them. Slipped and fell the last ten feet or so, but it was no big deal.”

He raised the bandaged scrapes on his palms. Talia nodded. That explained how he made it so far in such a short period of time. Had he gone through the facility itself, he would have no doubt gotten lost and captured in under an hour.

“Why're you asking?” The boy looked at her curiously. “I won't do it again, if that's what you're worried about.”

“Actually,” Talia smiled at him conspiratorially, “that is exactly what I need you to do.”

By morning her private jet was fueled and ready for takeoff. Talia took an unsuspicious amount of clothes and other necessities with her and gave the order that Jason was not to be disturbed unless he requested something or Batman arrived to retrieve him. The guards remained at the door as expected, but they did not enter.

She said good-bye to her father in his study and was surprised by how easy it was to pretend that all was well. When she looked at him, it was as if Talia could see two men in his place. One was the kind loving father who raised her, taught her, read to her, while the other was the man capable of destroying civilizations with no regard for the innocent. The man her beloved saw. She knew he existed, but until now Talia had been able to focus on the image of her father as she remembered him from childhood. After last night she could no longer deny the second image.

She went down to medical as well where Dr. Weltmann was bent over a microscope, her glasses pushed into her graying hair. She must have seen her from the corner of her eye, because as soon as Talia was within a few feet feet of her, the older woman looked up and replaced her glasses. She must not have been expecting her because she frowned.

“What is it?”

“I wanted to tell you that what we spoke of yesterday will have to wait.” Talia lowered her voice so as not to attract the attention of other people in the lab. “I am leaving for Dubai within the hour.”

The other woman's frown deepened. “Although I am concerned, you are under no obligation to keep me informed.”

“I know.” Talia nodded. “It is because of your concern that I am telling you. If my father inquires about... anything, I do not want you in danger. As far as anything regarding myself is concerned, you know nothing. Understand?”

“Talia,” the doctor's voice was filled with worry, “what is going on?”

Instead of answering, she pulled the other woman into a fierce hug. Startled at first, Dr. Weltmann returned the hug but pulled back after a moment, searching her face. Talia knew the exact moment the realization hit her. She stared, and Talia smiled sadly, squeezing her shoulder.

“I genuinely hope I see you again, Victoria,” she said, using the doctor's first name perhaps for the first and last time. Talia felt she owed the woman that much respect. “Good-bye.”

Inside the plane, Talia made the final preparations. The last one came after all the lights for takeoff were green. The cabin had cameras and recording devices, but the control of them all was within her power, so no one heard when she walked over to the back of the plane, further than the line of open windows, and gently rapped her knuckles twice against a large trunk. Originally it held the various assortment of ninja items, but now all that lay tossed on the floor of the cabin next to the trunk.

There was some shuffling, but within a moment the lid was pushed open and eyes wide with exhilaration shined back into her own. Jason opened his mouth and drew in a lung-full of air, and she could just tell that there was about to be a flurry of excitement about spill out. Quickly Talia pressed two fingers against against his lips.

“Hush, child,” she whispered. “Let us be off and then we will speak. I owe you two secrets, but you must be patient. Yes?” Jason nodded vigorously. “Wonderful. Please stay out of sight of windows until we are in flight.”

In the additional fifteen minutes or so it took her to take the plane into the open sky, Talia could practically feel the cabin fill with the boy's excited energy. She tried not to smile, but the energy was contagious. The instant the craft completed its ascent and leveled off, she could hear him jump to his feat.

“Now?” Jason whispered as loud as he could from the back of the plane.

She swiveled in the pilot's seat, put the plane on auto, and nodded. The boy did not so much run as bounce into the closest plush leather chair, falling into a cross-legged sitting position. He was trailing sand everywhere. Talia took the seat across the table from him, primly folding her hands in her lap. Jason was still bouncing a little.

“Well?” He all-but demanded. “You said you had secrets.”

“And I do,” Talia's voice was both mischievous and bit conspiratorial. “But at the moment, I can only share one.” Before he could look too disappointed, she quickly went on. “The second I will tell you as soon as we are reunited with your father.”

It took half a second for the child to catch on, and Talia knew the instant he did because his eyes went even wider than before. Then he frowned.

“I thought your old man already called him. Why are we going somewhere else to meet up?”

“Because,” Talia looked straight at him, “I will be returning to Gotham with you.”

Jason stared back at her in awe, as if not beveling. She could hardly blame him.

“For real?” His voice was barely above a whisper. “For good?”

“For good,” she affirmed, “but only if it is alright with you.”

Instead of a verbal response, she suddenly found hands full of little boy, and she could not help but reflect on how good it felt to hold him without tears. Jason let himself be held for another moment before apparently remembering that this was _not_ considered 'cool'. He cleared his throat, a little embarrassed, but made no real motion to move away.

“Can we call him now?” he asked hopefully.

Talia smiled and brushed back his hair. “Absolutely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story/epic poem Talia recalls goes vaguely like this: The princess Lydmila is being given away by her father to the warrior Ruslan, but on their wedding night, she is snatched up by the evil wizard, Chernomor, and carried off to his castle because he wants her too. Furious that Ruslan was unable to protect his daughter, the knyaz (king) annuls the marriage and promises his daughter's hand to anyone who can bring her back. Ruslan and his rivals set off to find the princess, have lots of adventures along the way, etc. Did I mention there's a giant dismembered-yet-still-talking head in this story?  
> What I loved best about the story is that Lydmila actually escapes on her own using a hat of invisibility. She doesn't wait for the men to come and get her but is her own heroine. That's what was bothering me to no end in this fic: I didn't want Bruce to be the white – or dark, as the case may be – knight ridding to the rescue of the woman and child. It was driving me nuts until I came across the idea who just read about in this chapter.


	19. Part XIX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I shamelessly 'borrowed' two lines from Morrison's “Batman & Robin” comic in this chapter but twisted them for my own purposes. I hope they work where they are. Also the book Bruce is reading is one of my favorite sci-fi series out there. Highly recommend it. The end is nigh, folks! There's probably only one chapter or so and an epilogue left. Enjoy and please review.

For Jason's sake, she tried not to appear too anxious as the radio tried to connect for the fourth time. Talia had tried the cave first, then the Batwing, then one cowl frequency, and now it was a second. At her side in the cockpit, Jason was frowning.

“Where is he?”

“I assume in transit.” She chewed on her lip for a moment. “Let me try another.”

There was some static, but this time a connection quickly clicked in to place.

“Yo, it's Nightwing,” came the youthful voice from the other end. “Talk to me.”

She cleared her throat. “Richard.”

“Talia?!”

He was probably just as shocked to hear her voice as she was to hear his, but simply wasn't able to hide it as well. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Jason's frown deepen, and Talia remembered that he had never actually met the original Robin. She reached over and squeezed the boy's hand reassuringly but kept her attention focused on the radio.

“Richard, I must speak to Bruce. Might you know where he is?”

“On his way to you,” came the reply.

“He is not,” Talia explained patiently, “as I am no longer at my father's stronghold. What craft has he taken? I cannot reach him.”

“You're not with...” The youth ignored her question. “Then where the hell are you? Is Jason with you? Don't tell me you left him with Ra's.”

His response, though harsh at first glance, pleased her. She might have guessed that Richard would know about the younger boy – with newspapers and tabloids it was hard not to – but his genuine concern for someone he had never met, someone he might have considered a usurper, was still good to hear. Unlike her father...

“Jason is with me,” she assured him. “And I am certain he would love to speak with you, but at the moment it is urgent that I reach Bruce.”

“O...okay.” Clearly he was confused but going with the new information regardless. “Hang tight, I'll get him on the line for you.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Contrary to what Dick and Jason both thought, Bruce was not always the most patient person in the world. He could _appear_ patient on stakeouts, but sitting still did not mean there wasn't enough going on in his head to keep him occupied. He was constantly strategizing, making plans for various scenarios. But that was when he felt fully in control of a situation, when he had all the pieces and could predict how everyone involved would react. That was not so easy to do with Talia, as he'd learned a long time ago, probably because she often times felt conflicted herself. Despite his own desires and his bravado to Dick, he could not say for certain that she would have stayed with him if not for Lady Shiva's arrival.

All he could really do during the long flight was wait for landing. “Hurry up and wait”, as Dick had called it, a phrase borrowed from a series of military sci-fi book called ' _The Lost Fleet_ ' he'd been trying to get Bruce to read for a while. He'd jokingly promised there was a love story in the sub-plot. With little else to do, Bruce picked up the tattered paperback copy of ' _Dauntless_ ' Dick had left behind on the jet and began reading. He just reached the part where Captain Geary assumes command of the fleet after a surprise attack by the enemy forces when the com buzzed.

“Bruce?”

It was Dick's voice again. He was on his feet and reached the cockpit in three strides and pressed the open com button.

“I'm here.”

“Oh, good.” There was something in his voice, Bruce couldn't quite place. Something light that told him this was not bad news. “I got someone on the line. Someone who's gonna be really happy to hear from you.”

There was a moment of static, and then Bruce heard the word he didn't expect to hear for quite some time. Certainly not from the person it came from.

“Dad?”

Jason's voice. Jason, who had never even hinted that he might ever call him that no matter how much Bruce wished for it. He had to take a second to swallow the lump that suddenly formed in his throat to keep from reacting. Now was not the time, but when he was back with him, Bruce silently promised that they _would_ talk about it. If the boy could take such a monumental step, he could certainly acknowledge its importance.

“Hey, Jason.” Despite his best efforts, he could tell his voice wavered a bit. “Are you alright?”

“Yup!” The response was so enthusiastic he had to smile. “This big guy, Grind, was a jerk, but I handled it, and Talia totally told him off. Don't worry.”

Okay, _now_ he was worried.

“Sounds... interesting. You can tell me all about it in a few hours,” Bruce assured him. “Can you put Talia on for a minute?”

“Yeah, sure. Here you go.”

There was a little shuffling, before... “Beloved.”

He released a breath he didn't realize he was holding. “It's good to hear your voice.”

“Yours as well. I must apologize for... everything. None of this was my intent.”

“I know. I got a hold of Lady Shiva. Just tell me you're both really fine.”

“We are. All of us, but I have some important news. At the moment Jason and I are no longer at the coordinates my father gave you in his message. We are in my private plane heading towards Dubai.”

His mind raced with the implications, but his hands were already plotting the new course into the navigations and began searching for a suitable landing strip. He wanted to ask what it meant – for the two of them, for the children – but dared not discuss it on the line. Secure though it was, Dick and Jason were no doubt still listening, and while he'd told the eldest the truth, he doubted Talia would have told Jason without him. The computer pinged that it had found a match to his criteria, and Bruce glanced at the readouts.

“There's a small private airport a few miles south-east of the city,” he told her. “If it's just you and Jason, I prefer to come in as Bruce Wayne. It should be about four in the afternoon local time when I land.”

Private though the airport was, he was flying in on a Wayne jet, not the Batwing, and reuniting with hist foster son, Jason Todd, not Robin. Typing in a few commands, he sent the directions to the other aircraft and to Dick, just in case.

“Coordinates received and locked in,” Talia acknowledged. “See you soon, beloved.”

* * * * * * * * * *

She tried not to seem nervous when the airport and the sole other plane with the silver-gray stylized W on its side or as she stepped out of the tarmac. There was no reason to be nervous. If she had been indecisive while in Gotham or even a day ago, Talia was absolutely certain she was making the right decision now. _Perhaps it is simply fear of change_ , she mused. She might have wished for this life, this family, but she had never really thought it might be possible.

Jason, who had started out of the plane at something of a bouncing run, looked over his shoulder as soon as they were on solid ground, and she was a little surprised that he actually slowed and went as far as to take her hand so they might walk towards the Wayne jet together. She suspected it was mostly for her benefit. The other plane's ramp was also lowered, but it was not until they were less than ten meters away that Bruce stepped out.

She was not sure what she had expected. Not the Batman, exactly, but perhaps not this man in the simple slacks, pale buttoned down shirt, and a clear, open face. Their eyes met, but it only lasted for a moment before his attention shifted to the child now running at full speed toward him. Already less guarded than usual, the man's face lit up, and a second later the boy was lifted high in his arms. Talia reached them just as Bruce pulled back from the hug but did not put his son down.

“What happened here?” He frowned, running the pad of his thumb along Jason's still-bruised cheekbone.

“You should see the other guy.” The boy boasted.

“Aha. And this?” He took one of the child's bandaged palms. “Is this the same 'other guy'?”

“Nah. That's me climbing out of a really tall window.”

“Huh.” Bruce pretended to think that over. “ _That_ I believe. You sure you're okay?”

“Yeah.” His father set him back down on the ground. “You should've seen Talia,” Jason went on excitedly. “She came up with this really sneaky plan and got us out. She was _so_ awesome.”

“I have absolutely no doubt about how awesome Talia is.”

He finally turned to her, and though it was not the same kind of obvious exuberant excitement he had shared with Jason, there was clear warmth and affection on his features. Moments like this – among others – reminded Talia that no matter what, he was more man than myth. She had spent enough of her life among legends and welcomed the chance to live and raise her baby among real – if still extraordinary – people.

“I am well, beloved,” she assured him before he had a chance to ask the question.

Instead of saying anything, Bruce took a step towards her, and a second later his lips were pressed against hers. Soft, tender, and with just a touch of passion, though this was neither the time nor the place for it. As it was, she could see Jason giving them a smug look out of the corner of her eye. Talia pulled back and cleared her throat.

“Are you ready?” Bruce asked, and she nodded, not quite trusting herself to speak.

It was only a few steps to the ramp of the Wayne jet, and Jason has already run over and standing on the first step. Talia took a breath. Those last few steps felt more monumental than all the miles that had crossed already and were about to cross now. There was no going back after this. When doubt first crept into her mind, Talia has branded herself a coward for her indecision. Now was the time to end it, the time to be brave, for herself and their family.

“Ahem.”

It took all her will not to spin around or gasp in surprise at the voice behind them. Her hands suddenly felt clammy and clenched into tight fists. Next to her, she could feel Bruce stiffen. Before either of them turned, he raised his eyes in the direction of the jet and the boy who was standing half-way up the ladder, his own eyes wide as he stared at the person behind them.

“Jason, go inside.” His father ordered. “Now.”

The boy hesitated, but Bruce's voice had brooked no arguments. He was inside the plane and out of sight a second later, and only then did the two of them turn to face her father. For his part, the immortal looked neither angry nor sad, none of the emotions Talia might have expected of him in this moment. Surely he knew what it meant; her being here with Bruce. But instead of fury, all she was faced with was cool gray eyes.

“This is your decision then, daughter?” He asked calmly.

“It is.” Talia did not let her voice show a hint of doubt or weakness.

“Then I believe I deserve to know why.”

That _was_ the great question, was it not? Why? Why now, after all the years of the choice hanging over her head? Even after she had become pregnant, Talia had still not been immediately certain. She thought of her baby, now just a little over five months away from meeting the world, of Jason, of Bruce and her father both, the actions she supported and those she condemned. Her expression softened, moss-green eyes taking on a shade of sadness.

“I love you, Father.” Talia told him honestly. “But you create orphans, while he,” she inclined her head slightly to indicate Bruce at her side, “protects them. I have come to realize that there are enough orphans in the world.”

There was a moment of absolute stillness and silence. Then Ra's al Ghul nodded once as if in acceptance of her words, and in a gesture that mirrored her earlier one, lifted his head as his eyes shifted to Bruce. “I would speak to your detective before you depart.”

Every part of Talia rebelled at the idea. They should have nothing to say to one another; leaving had been her decision and hers alone. She was no man's property to be discussed and bartered over. She was ready to argue the point when Bruce stepped forward and put a hand on her shoulder.

“Let it go.” He advised in a low voice. “I'll talk to him, and we can all go home.”

As much as she hated it, 'home' had a very appealing sound to it. Talia stepped back as Bruce walked towards her father. The men were several yards away when they finally stopped. She had backed away closer towards the still-open ladder of the Wayne jet. Her eyes darted towards the inside of the cabin.

“You are spying again.”

Jason poked his head into the light. “I'm honing my detective skills.”

“An excellent line.” She was amused and grateful for the momentary distraction. “I wonder if your father ever believes it as much as I do.”

The boy all-but pouted. “Can't hear anything, anyway.”

“Not for lack of trying.”

The truth was that Talia could not hear anything either nor see Bruce's face. Her father's remained neutral as he spoke. She wondered – even half-expected – if they would to come to blows, but that did not happen. Within moments, Bruce turned and walked back towards her. His expression seemed grim but not enough for her to read. Her father stepped forward as well, and with a shock, she realized that the look he was giving her was the same indifferent gaze the immortal bestowed on almost everyone else. Regardless of her transgressions, Talia had never seen it directed at her before.

“I will permit you to leave with your detective,” her father said coolly, “but from now on, Talia, you are no longer welcome here. You may consider yourself an enemy of the house of al Ghul.”

Only the cold numbness that rushed through her veins on the heels of the utter shock kept Talia from being completely paralyzed and crippled by it.

“Very well.” She replied with a calmness she did not quite feel. “I hope I can be a worthy one, Father.”


	20. Part XX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I might have lied ever so slightly. One more chapter and an epilogue after this one. Just too many things to wrap up all at once. Enjoy and please review.

Jetlag was rough even for the most traveled business person or international underground agent, and though both Bruce and Talia played some aspects of each roll, this had been Jason’s first trip out of Gotham. He had barely had time to adjust to the time difference in one direction, had been roused at dawn this morning, and would arrive home when Gotham was still in daylight despite the fifteen hour flight. Bruce felt only a little guilty for his ulterior motives when he suggested the boy sleep, but Jason quickly dozed off in a reclined seat with no complaint.

Talia had been quiet since the takeoff, mostly looking out the window as the land of the middle-east fell away below them, giving way to a view of the sea, then only the clouds as the plane climbed higher. He had been in the cockpit then but joined them in the cabin as soon as it was safe to engage the auto-pilot. Considering Ra’s’ words, she could hardly be blamed for being melancholy. Bruce himself had wanted to perpetrate some great acts of violence upon the immortal then but held back just as he’d advised Talia to do. Nothing mattered more now than getting their family home.

He slowly sank down in a chair opposite from her, regarding the woman he loved carefully. Jason had by now clearly made himself comfortable in his sleep. He was sprawled across two massive seats, his head cradled in Talia’s lap. She was stroking his curls absently, still looking out the window though there was little to see now. He let her have the silence though there was so much to be said.

“I am an orphan now.”

Her voice was so quiet he almost didn’t catch it. Bruce pressed his lips together, unable to deny her comment or give her any kind of comfort on the matter. Though she was an adult, and Ra’s al Ghul was hardly someone he liked to compare to his own parents, Bruce knew how horrible it was to be in that moment of shock when someone you love is ripped away from you.

“We both are,” he admitted just as softly, “but our children needn’t be.”

Her hand stopped for a moment in its motion through Jason’s hair and the other came to rest on her lower abdomen. It might have been all in his mind, but Bruce imagined that it had swelled just a tiny fraction since he'd last seen her as their child grew within her.

“No,” she agreed, and he saw the first hint of a real smile touch her lips. “They need not be.”

This time the silence that fell upon the cabin was a comfortable one. Bruce sat back, letting his mind and eyes drift. When they finally settled on Jason’s sleeping form again, he remembered something. Straightening, he looked back to Talia, who merely raised a brow as if anticipating a question.

“He called me ‘Dad’.”

She smiled again, brighter this time. “I heard.”

“It’s... important.”

“Yes.” A small tilt of the head in acquiescence and, he imagined, amusement at his unsurety of the subject.

“Is he going to do it again?”

She laughed, light and high, though not loud enough to wake Jason, and it made him feel only a little as if he was a child who had just asked a very obvious question.

“He will.” Talia assured him. “He _wants_ you to be his father.”

Bruce raised a skeptical brow. “You know this?”

“I spoke to him.” She admitted. “On this, and other topics. He _does_ speak, beloved. Given half the chance and only a little encouragement. He does not wish to be wounded, to hurt forever, but he cannot heal alone. And there is much to heal from.”

Her tone took on a note of sadness, and Bruce wondered just how much Jason had told her in their time together. He knew, of course, the full extent of the boy’s background, what had happened to each of his parents, and what he endured on the streets of Gotham. But most of it was either from official records or his own private investigating into the matter. Jason had spoken little about his past, and usually so coldly and angrily that Bruce wondered if it wasn’t for the best not to press rather than risk a backlash.

Apparently Talia had found a way to get the boy to open up within days, something he hadn’t been able to do for months. It was impressive, and reinforced his earlier conclusion that she would be a wonderful mother. She raised her eyes to him again.

“You spoke to Richard,” she said, as if to acknowledge his own accomplishment. “I take it you have at last reconciled?”

“I think so.” Bruce nodded. “There’s a lot more for us to talk about when we get back, but I think we’re moving in the right direction. He’s very… forgiving.”

“Ah, well, he has certainly known you for long enough not to take some of your less than charming behaviors personally,” Talia quipped then her face went serious, and she glanced down, he hand at her abdomen twitching. “Did you tell him?” Bruce nodded. “And?”

“He...” he tried to put Dick's reaction into words. It had actually been better than his reaction on the Jason topic. “I don't think he believed me at first. Then he laughed and tried, in a round about way, to lecture me on the importance of birth control.”

Talia chuckled and shrugged her shoulders. “It could have been worse.”

Bruce pressed his lips together, looking again at Jason's sleeping form. “I don't suppose you...” She shook her head. “Yeah. Well, if you're expecting worse...”

“Jason will be fine.” It might have been his imagination, but he thought he heard a note of defensiveness – or perhaps protectiveness – in her voice. “I have faith in him.”

Bruce said nothing, wisely choosing not to point out that initially her faith had been rewarded with the boy running away. Still, Talia had quite possibly made more progress with him in under a week than Bruce himself had in months. That was something, maybe enough not to undo all that progress after they told him about the baby.

He rose.

“I'm going to get in touch with Dick, make some arrangements for when we land.”

Talia nodded, and he took a step back towards the cockpit but suddenly stopped and turned back to her. He had not said everything, he realized, and that was one of the biggest pitfalls he had to fix. Their eyes locked, her own gaze questioning while his was absolutely serious.

“I have faith,” Bruce chose his words carefully, “in this family. That if we stick together, we can make all of this, everything we've always wanted, work. I love you.”

“And I you.” Her eyes were alight with joy. “We will _absolutely_ ensure that everything works out. Go speak to Richard.”

* * * * * * * * * *

From the air, Gotham looked glorious. A shinning beacon of home, with not a speck of the dirt and grime he knew was there. The weather report was for clear skies and a warm, if a bit humid, afternoon, and Bruce remembered another such day when he returned to his city after years abroad. He had been welcomed by a slew of reporters then. Thankfully this particular return was much more private.

Dick was waiting for them on the airstrip next to the private Wayne hanger along with two cars, one of which Bruce recognized as Talia’s Porsche. Glancing over his shoulder at her as she descended the ladder just a few steps behind, he could tell that she clearly looked pleased to see it. Dick was grinning and made a sweeping gesture with his hand towards the car.

“I salvaged your ride.”

“So you did.” She tilted her head slightly. “Though I was not aware it was in need of... salvage.”

“Well, I figured you never know when a squad of ninja’s gonna show up and reposes it.” The teen shrugged. “With the whole disownment thing and everything...”

Bruce silently wished he had not relayed that particular piece of information to his eldest quite yet. Bringing the car was Dick’s olive branch, his good-faith attempt to show that he would do his best to accept Talia despite his reservations. He looked over at Talia, but her expression was neutral. He gave Dick a look, and the teen winced.

“Too soon?”

“Too soon.”

“No, it’s alright,” Talia held up a placating hand. “I appreciate the gesture, Richard. Now that you brought it up, I would not be opposed to making a stop by my apartment in the city either.”

“Good thing I brought two cars then,” the young man grinned and looked at Bruce pointedly. “Since you've yet to invest in a mini-van.”

“Just for that, you're riding with me.”

Dick was obviously about to come back with a clever retort, before then his eyes shifted away from Bruce and onto a point behind him. Jason was cautiously making his way down the plane's steps. There was a slight frown on his face as he studied the teen. Bruce was about to intervene and make all the necessary introductions, but Dick stepped forward, his smile possibly wider than before.

“I got this,” he told him, and took the few steps towards the boy. With Jason still on the last step of the ladder, they were nearly at eye level. Dick gave him a friendly smile. “Hey, there.”

“Hey,” Jason didn't seem to thaw much. “You Grayson?”

“Yeah.” He didn't seem too put off by the boy's cool tone. “I heard a lot about you, Jason. It's nice to finally meet up. I guess... I'm kind of your big brother.”

“Huh.” Apparently the comment hadn't made much of an impact. “You were Robin.”

“I was,” Dick confirmed. “But I'm Nightwing now.”

“And you _don't_ want your old job back?” the boy double-checked.

The teen laughed. “No.”

“Huh,” Jason said again, then as if in second thought, crooked his own grin at Dick. “I want you to know... I'm gonna break all your old records.”

With that, he stepped down and around the former boy wonder to join Talia next to her Porsche. Bruce didn't know whether he should be relieved or disappointed at the exchange. Talia was already giving the boy a mildly disapproving look.

“Rude,” she told him courtly. Jason just shrugged.

Dick blew out a breath, glanced at Bruce, then back to Talia. “You want to head out first? I have no idea where your place is, and the big guy probably knows the directions by way of rooftops.”

“As you wish.”

When Talia and Jason were in the other car and the Porsche engine came to life, Dick tossed the keys to his mentor. “So 'you're ridding with me' is code for 'we need to talk' now?”

They were two blocks away from the tall apartment building, and the teen's normal cheerful expression had slowly but surely been replaced by a mixture of serious thoughtfulness and, Bruce thought, mild disbelief. He could hardly blame him; it was a lot to take in and a lot to ask for from the young man. But he would not have asked if he didn't think it was important.

“I don't know what to say,” Dick shook his head in the passenger seat. “Don't get me wrong, I'm... ecstatic you think I'm up for it, but...what about the Titans? And Bludhaven?”

“Just think about it,” Bruce offered. “I wouldn't be asking if I didn't think you can handle it, and I trust you to manage your own time and priorities. I did want to ask you first, though, before I discussed this with anyone else.”

“Oh, I think 'anyone else' should definitely have some input,” the teen still sounded a little in shock. “You're going to have to talk to them anyway. Tell them what you've decided.”

“I will,” Bruce nodded. “I asked Alfred to set a few extra plates for dinner tomorrow night.”

“Tight deadline,” Dick commented, no doubt referring to his upcoming decision. He seemed deep in thought for another moment, then looked up again. “What about Ra's? What did you two talk about back in Dubai? You sounded fairly pissed off when you called from the plane.”

But by then they were pulling into the building's underground garage and parking. Bruce shook his head and killed the engine.

“Later,” was all he said.

* * * * * * * * * *

Talia was not exactly sure why the next morning felt so different – so much better – than any within the last few months. The feeling of loss at her father's rejection still lingered and probably would for quite some time, but the anxiety and indecision were gone. She felt lighter, more free. The fact that Bruce was beside her, still asleep, his bare chest rising and falling with a steady rhythm, certainly added to that wonderful feeling. The sheets all around them were rumpled and tangled and thrown haphazardly around the bed. They told of a story of two people who were finally able to enjoy each other with out fear of discovery or a ticking clock to hurry them. She looked forward to as many such mornings as possible in the future.

Her lover stirred, stretched, and slowly blue eyes opened and turned to her. A lazy smile touched the corner of his mouth, and he reached out to run the back of his hand along her bare arm. Her skin tingled where he touched her – now and last night – and Talia hoped it always would. She returned the smile.

“Good morning, beloved.”

“Morning.” The statement was sealed with a kiss. “Have I told you recently how gorgeous you are? Your skin is flawless.”

“Yes. Pregnancy hormones have done wonders on certain parts of my anatomy.”

“Definitely.” There was a mischievous glint in his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“Alright,” she said automatically, then added, “better than in a long time. In fact...” she did a quick mental calculation, and her whole face lit up. _That_ was what was different! She kissed him again, and he laughed, sharing her happiness, thought clearly not understanding the specific reason.

“What?”

“Second trimester! No morning sickness!”

It took another hour and a half for them to actually dress and make it downstairs. Alfred greeted them in the kitchen with a virtual buffet, and Talia was pleased to confirm that, yes, she could – and wanted to – eat almost anything. Eggs seemed to be the last remaining issue.

“You look well, Miss Talia,” the butler commented as he set a saucer of decaf tea in front of her.

“Thank you, Alfred.” She accepted the hot drink graciously. “I feel much better.”

“Where are the boys?” Bruce pored himself a cup of black coffee.

“Downstairs,” Alfred nodded to the door that she knew lead to the cave. “I believe master Richard said something along the lines of having to ensure young master Jason was 'up to beating his records'.”

“Huh. Remind me to tell Dick I owe him.” Bruce snorted and took a sip of coffee. Talia raised a brow. “I... _may_ have asked him to keep Jason occupied. There's a few things I'd like to talk to you about before the guests show up this evening.”


	21. Part XXI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter before the epilogue, folks! This first section turnout a little unexpected even to me, but I'm happy with it. Apologies in advance for any o.c.ness on characters I don't read about or write often. Please review!

Alfred was busy in the kitchen, so when the bell rang, followed by Bruce's voice with a “Dick! Jason! Get the door!” from somewhere far down the hall, Talia saw the younger of the two race through the hall and the first of their guests when Jason opened the front door. The tall statuesque woman with long inky black hair stood dressed in high-heeled boots, plain civilian jeans, a white turtle-neck, and jacket.

“Hello.” She smiled pleasantly at the boy, but even as she descended the grand stair case, Talia could see and hear that Jason clearly did not recognize her.

“Who are you?” he asked in the typical distrustful tone he used when meeting new people he was not certain he liked.

“I’m Diana,” the woman replied, “of Themyscira. I serve with Batman on the Justice League.”

“Oh, you’re Wonder Woman.” Realization dawned on the boy’s face and he instantly relaxed.

By that time Talia was at the bottom of the stairs, and when the amazon saw her, all of her attention immediately shifted from Jason to her. Already smiling, the other woman’s face practically lit from the inside. Taken slightly aback – Talia never actually expected anyone from the League to be anything more than coolly cordial – she stopped behind Jason and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Could you please help Alfred set the table?” she asked. “I will entertain our guest until the other arrives.”

“Yeah, sure.”

He was barely out of ear shot, when Diana stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her in a very unexpected and enthusiastic hug.

“Congratulations!” the amazon beamed. “I know how long Bruce has dreamed of this family. I am so very happy for you both.”

“Ah... thank you.” It was a rare occasion that Talia found herself lost for words, but now was one of them. “Please excuse my... curiosity, but should you not be more... suspect of me?”

“I trust Bruce’s judgment,” the other woman inclined her head slightly. “Also I would not wish him on anyone who could not handle him. From what I know about you, you are one of few who can.”

“I shall take it as a compliment.” Talia could not help but return the smile.

“It absolutely was.” Diana searched her face. “You are glowing.”

“So I have been told,” she sighed. “You know?”

“Kal told me,” the other woman admitted. “But do not worry. Your condition is hardly public knowledge. He only mentioned it when I shared that I, too, was invited here today. Again, my congratulations, sister. There is no doubt in my mind that you will be the mother of extraordinary children.”

 _I already am_ , Talia thought in Jason’s direction. Aloud she only asked, “Sister?”

“Ah.” Diana looked a bit embarrassed. “I understand that is not part of the… colloquial in the Patriarch’s world. Apologies if I made you feel uncomfortable.”

“No, not at all.” If anything she felt an odd sort of kinship with the other woman, and it quickly dawned on her why. “I, too, am from a different world.”

They walked in the gardens behind the manor, and Talia was surprised to realize that she quite liked the amazon. Diana was kind, with an inner strength that possibly outweighed her already impressive physical one, and Talia got the sense that she was genuine in the same manner that Clark Kent was, but where he was instantly suspect of her, Diana was the opposite and liked her solely because of how much she meant to Bruce.

“This must feel somewhat strange to you,” the amazon said sympathetically. “So much change so quickly.”

“I have the family I chose, the one I was meant to have.” The words were nearly identical to the ones she had spoken to Jason.

“What about friends?”

Talia thought of Dr. Weltmann. She prayed that her father would not find out how much the woman helped her, that she had kept her confidence. The doctor had risked so much for her. Talia wondered if she would ever see her again.

“I had a friend,” she replied courtly. “I hope she is well.”

“Well,” with another smile, Diana looped her left arm through the crook of Talia’s right, “you have one here now.”

Talia was about to answer when a sudden gust of wind blew her long dark tresses into her face. It lasted for only a split second, and she did not have time to register what it was until next to her, Diana grinned and pulled her back towards the house.

“Kal’s here,” she announced.

The walk back was unhurried, and by the time the women returned, Bruce, Richard, and Clark Kent were standing in the living room. For a moment Talia thought everything was fine, that they were just waiting for them to sit down and talk. She did not think about why all of their backs were to her until Richard turned, his face ashen.

“I... I'm sorry.” It came out barely above a whisper. “I thought he knew.”

They parted before her like a water to reveal Jason standing just four feet away from her, but it might as well have been miles. He was staring at her with an expression Talia had never seen before. Not anger, not sadness, but something else, a kind of deep hurt, betrayal even. When his gaze shifted to her abdomen, it finally clicked.

“I thought you said your baby died.” His voice was not accusatory, merely small. So small.

She did not want to do this now, not with so many people there. It was supposed to be just her and Bruce. They were supposed to have time to figure out how to tell him together, how to assure him that he mattered just as much as the child that was coming. But she had to say something.

“That is what I told my father,” she admitted. “I was afraid that if he knew otherwise, he would not let me go.”

That much was true, though Talia pointedly neglected to mention that she had also kept the truth from Bruce for months. It would do no good now. Jason's father stepped forward.

“I asked her not to say anything,” he said, and Jason glared at him. Talia wished he had not said that. She should have been the sole target of Jason's anger. “We wanted to talk to you together, but then you were both taken.”

Again, not a lie, but not the whole truth either. Until she had seen her father's indifference towards Jason, Talia had not been certain which family she would have chosen. The boy was smart enough to remember that, remember her indecision. Painted in this light, she feared he would never forgive her.

“Jay,” this time it was Richard who spoke, “I'm sorry I sprang this on you like that, but this is a _good_ thing. Life is _always_ a good thing.”

“Yeah,” the boy's voice was almost entirely devoid of emotion. “Sure. Congrads, I guess.”

Without another word he turned and started at a trot for the back of the manor.

“I'm sorry,” the teen repeated, turning to his mentor with helplessness.

“It's not your fault, Dick.” Bruce looked to her. “I'm going to talk to him. Give me... fifteen or twenty minutes, then come get us.”

“He hates me.” Talia could not help how heartbroken she sounded, even in front of Kent and Diana. The amazon wrapped an arm around her shoulder and squeezed gently.

“He doesn't,” Bruce assured her. “Fifteen minutes. I promise.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Though he held his surprise in check in front of the others, Bruce found the direction the boy had chosen curious. The back of the house instead of the front, which made him reasonably certain he wasn't running away. It was Jason's automatic reaction to emotional turmoil. When Dick had inadvertently revealed their secret, a part of him had expected Jason to start running then and for him to track him down back to Park Row.

But that didn't happen. Hurt though he was – that much was obvious to everyone in the room – Jason had not reacted with violence or even anger. Now he found the boy sitting on the steps to the main exit to the gardens in the back of the manor. He was quiet, his cheek propped up on the heel of one hand that rested on his knee. With the other he idly pulled at the grass. Bruce sat down next to him.

“As much as I don't mind you taking out your frustration on the lawn, Alfred might not like it,” he said mildly. “You want to talk to me instead so with both don't get in trouble?”

Jason said nothing, just exhaled a very deliberate sigh. Bruce tried again.

“I'm glad you decided to stick around. I really didn't want to send Superman after you.”

That one must have been the wrong thing to say on many levels because it earned him such a sharp look that Bruce was momentarily thrown off balance. He sighed.

“Jason, I'm trying. Obviously I'm doing a really bad job, but I'm trying. Just... talk to me.”

The boy looked like he was considering continuing the silent treatment. He turned away from him and began to pick at the grass again, but a moment later Bruce did hear him mutter under his breath.

“I promised Talia I wouldn't.”

“What?”

“I promised Talia I wouldn't run away.” This time he did look at him and spoke clearly. “When her old man got us and I ran away and those thugs brought me back. She was kind of freaked, so I promised I wouldn't do it again.”

“That's good.” God bless Talia for getting through to him on that one. “It's good to keep your promises, and I _am_ very happy you didn't run away. Neither of us likes worrying about you, and we'd _really_ worry if we didn't know where you were.”

They were such simple words, but then Bruce had no other kind. It was as honest as he could be on the matter. He didn't want to scare Jason, but the prospect of him running and doing something rash in a fit of anger was terrifying. And it appeared that his words had hit their mark. Jason tilted his head, expression slightly curious.

“You'd worry?”

“Of course. Did I ever make you think I wouldn't?”

“I dunno,” the boy shrugged his shoulders. “You're really busy with everything. 'Specially with the baby now...”

“The baby's not going to change anything between you and me.” Bruce assured him. “As for other things I'm busy with, that's why Clark and Diana are here. We're going to talk and make sure I'm a lot less busy in the future. I'll make absolutely sure I have plenty of time for you. School, training, or just hanging out. Whatever you need.”

“What if...” he fiddled with a blade of grass. “What if I didn't want to be Robin?”

Bruce's mind spun. The boy had never indicated that he was having second thoughts about that. On the contrary, Jason had been pestering him about going out into the field almost incessantly since the beginning. It felt like test, a trick question, so again he decided that the best thing to do was answer honestly.

“If you ever decide you don't want to be Robin, I'll sleep a lot better knowing you won't be in harm's way. You can be whatever you want. If you want to be a regular kid and go to school and college and just study and be around kids your own age, than that's what it'll be.”

“And I could still... be here?”

The man blinked. “Jason, if you think I would ever _ever_ throw you out...”

“You let Dick leave. I don't really know what happened, but I know you had a fight and he left and you let him.”

Bruce whipped his palms over his face. He _had_ done that and worse. Not exactly the strongest platform for convincing Jason that nothing would ever happen that would cause him to reject the child. He rose from the step, then moved around to sit on his haunches so that they could be face to face.

“I made a lot of mistakes,” he said. “And Dick is an incredibly forgiving person for accepting my apology. I swear to you, son. On my parents graves', I swear I won't ever abandon any of you for any reason.”

Jason looked only slightly more relieved, but still not completely at ease. He seemed like he was considering saying something. Bruce put both hands on his knees and tilted his head slightly so that he could better look at him.

“Want to tell me what's on your mind?” he prompted. “I know you talked to Talia, and I'm glad, but you can talk to me too. If you're mad or upset... anything at all.”

Another long stretch of silence, then Jason sighed. “Dick's back, and you're gonna have a real kid soon...”

“Jason, _you're_ real!”

He didn't know how to say it any better. That single word drove home how deeply scared the boy was. More than the shock of going from only child to middle child practically overnight, more than the fear of not getting to be Robin with Dick's return, was the terrible feeling that with the coming of a biological child his place in the household would be rendered completely invalid. It hurt, knowing he had not done enough to make the boy feel secure.

“Alright,” Bruce took a deep breath. “You want to know how you're special, what sets you apart from Dick _and_ the baby?” Jason said nothing, but he was looking at him now so Bruce knew he had his attention. “You were the first – _ever_ – to call me 'Dad'. That means more to me than you can imagine.”

“It just... kind of came out.” Jason looked embarrassed. “Was it okay?”

“Yeah,” Bruce smiled and cupped the side of his face affectionately with one large palm. “It was. If you want to make a habit out of it, I'm more than okay with that.”

He wrapped both arms around the boy, hugging him fiercely. Jason burred his face in his chest, and they remained that way for a few comfortable heartbeats. The child had never really invited hugs or any physical affection before in all the months he'd been with him. His mistake, Bruce realized with a pang, was thinking he had to ask. Jason pulled back slightly but not entirely out of the circle of his arms.

“I'm not mad,” he mumbled. “I don't want Talia to think I'm mad at her.”

Jason's back was to the door, so he couldn't see, but Bruce raised his eyes to the woman standing in the door way. He grinned as if to silently say, “Faith, huh?” and she shook her head with mock exasperation. Her eyes were misty, but she was smiling.

* * * * * * * * * *

Later, after a dinner that had included Dick and Jason talking all things Robin – Bruce never really believed Jason _didn't_ want the job – and Talia and Diana had apparently become fast friends – a fact that he knew he should find mildly frightening – they retired back to the living room. Bruce let everyone get settled before clearing his throat. When he had everyone's attention, he began.

“There have been a lot of changes for me lately,” he said looking at his family. “A lot of very positive changes.”

“So positive he doesn't know what to do,” Dick quipped and was rewarded with a chorus of low chuckles. Bruce held up a hand.

“I asked you here today,” he shifted his gaze to Clark and Diana, “because you're my teammates and my friends, and you have both my trust and respect. That being said, I hope you trust me when I say I know what I'm doing.” He took a deep breath. “I'm stepping down as active member of the Justice League. Effective immediately.”

His teammates' eyes went wide and Jason snapped his head up to stare at him as well. Talia and Dick had been privy to his decision, but others in the room were in a state of shock. He also didn't miss Clark's frown or his eyes darting towards Talia, obviously suspicious. For the people who haven't been with him in the recent weeks, he could understand how this might seem.

“Bruce,” the Kryptonian spoke slowly, “I think you're going to have to give us a little more than that.”

“I know. You have to understand that I... cannot give up Batman, give up Gotham,” he admitted, looking at Talia now with a slightly guilty look, but she simply nodded reassuringly. “But I have a family now, a partner to train, and children to raise. Besides, I don't intend to leave the League without help.”

“That'd be my cue.” Dick cleared his throat, and all eyes turned to him.

“Dick knows all my methods and has access to to all of my resources,” Bruce went on. “We've talked and agreed that should you need help, you can call on him the same way you would me. If it's something he thinks he can't handle, he'll come to me, but I trust that he should be fine for most things.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” the teen said, then looked at the other two League members. “This is all if you'll have me, of course.”

Diana's smile told him that she was already sold on the idea. She leaned in to talk to Dick quietly, assuring him that they were happy to have him, that no one deserved it more. Jason tapped Talia on the shoulder to ask a question Bruce didn't quite catch, but one she nodded the answer to. Overall Jason looked pleased at the development, probably because it meant there was truly little chance of Dick asking to be Robin again. Clark was the last person who didn't look convinced.

“You're sure?” he said.

“Absolutely.” He met the man's eyes. “You were lucky enough to grow up with amazing parents, Clark. All I want is a little more time to be there for my family. It's not perfect. It's probably less than they deserve, but for now, it's the most I can do.”

The man of steel was silent for a moment, then he smiled broadly.

“They're lucky to have you, my friend.” He looked out onto the gathered group of people. “All of them.”

“I think,” Bruce mused as he met Talia's gaze, “it's the other way around.”


	22. Part XXII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the final part, guys. Yes, as most of you have been asking, you will get to meet Damian today. This may be the last chapter of Deluge, but I have a few more ideas planned for this verse. There are already two snippets on my Tumblr (username: silverspidertm2) that I plan to someday move to ff.net and AO3 in a collection of one-shots. If I ever decide to do a full-fledged sequel, it'll take place 3 years from now around the “A Death in the Family” arc. My next project, however, will have me revisiting “The Changeling” verse, but of course expect to see a lot of familiar faces. Thank you so much for all your wonderful reviews and support through the longest fic I’ve ever completed!

_6 months later,_

So far the best part of the day was getting pulled out of school during second period, and for once it was not because he was in trouble. Jason had tried his best to be good and the number of trips to the principal’s office had significantly decreased. He knew exactly what happened the moment Dick burst through the door. The teacher glowered at him and the other kids stared, but Jason was out of his seat and on his feet in an instant.

“Is it time?” His eyes were wide with excitement.

“Yup!” the teen declared triumphantly. “Get your stuff, kiddo.”

That was around eight-thirty in the morning. By around six in the evening, Jason was starting to wish that he'd finished the school day. He didn't know if he'd expected to just show up at the hospital with Dick, meet up with Dad and Talia, and go home with her and the baby, but that didn't happen. Instead he found himself slumped in one of the hospital's waiting rooms, board, tired, and hungry, with any earlier excitement all but drained away.

“How much longer?” he whined. “It's already like... two weeks late.”

Next to him, Dick sighed. “I don't know, Jay. Babies come when they feel like it.”

“Well, it should hurry up.” He crossed his arms. “Talia's been miserable forever. This kid's such a brat already.”

“Maybe it's waiting to be born at exactly sunset or midnight or something like that for dramatic effect,” Dick checked his watch for emphasis. “You know?”

“No,” Jason glowered, though of course he did. Dick tried again.

“Hey, you never told me if you wanted a brother or sister. They decided to be surprised, huh?”

“Yeah.” The boy wrinkled his nose. “Which is kinda weird, right? I mean, Dad's Mr. Always-be-prepared.”

To his surprise, his brother threw back his head and laughed. “You know, I cracked that joke six months ago. It sounds funnier when you say it.” Jason raised a brow in a perfect imitation of Talia. “Nevermind. Maybe when you're older...”

The boy gave him a look. “I know where babies come from, jerk.”

“Whoa, okay,” Dick rose. “How about food? Food generally makes you less cranky. I don't think we're going to miss anything sitting around here for another hour.”

Food _was_ always a good bribe, even hospital cafeteria food. They started down the hall, and once in the elevator, half way to the lower level, Jason spoke up.

“I think it should be a boy,” he declared.

“You don't want a sister?” Dick tilted his head.

“No, it's not that. It'd be okay if it was a girl, too, so Talia's not the only one at home. But... well, can you _imagine_ how overprotective Dad would be? He's... him, and we live in Gotham.”

“That's a really good point.”

They returned to the waiting room with handfuls of chips, sodas, Jello cups, and hot dogs that Alfred would have never in a million years let them eat, but it was a special occasion, and Dick had declared that he'd take responsibility if Alfred ever found out. Jason was fine with that arrangement. However he was barely half way into his first bag of chips when the large doors opened and his father strode out.

“Is it here?” Dick was up immediately, but Bruce shook his head.

“Not yet.” Both wilted. “It'll be a couple more hours at least. But, Jason,” he turned to the younger, “Talia wants to see you.”

“In _there_?” It was Dick who looked pale and indignant.

“I'm not afraid,” Jason raised his chin, but his eyes darted to Bruce. “Is... is everything okay?”

“Fine. It's just for a few minutes.”

* * * * * * * * * *

When the door closed behind the boy, Bruce exhaled a deep breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Talia _had_ wanted to talk to Jason. Actually, she wanted both of them to talk to him, but he needed a few minutes alone with his eldest, before all their lives permanently altered. A conversation from half a year ago that he'd tried to forget was hounding him now, and someone other than himself had to know.

Dick gave him a quizzical look. “Sorry if this sounds really _really_ terrible, but you don't look like the guy who's excited about becoming a dad. Actually, you kinda look like you're waiting for a bomb to drop. What's up?”

Bruce blew out another breath and took him aside, as far away from the delivery room doors as possible without actually going out into the hallway where there would be other people.

“I was going to wait until the baby was born,” he said quietly, “because there's a chance this won't be an issue, but now I think I should tell you regardless. Just in case.”

“That doesn't sound good,” Dick frowned.

“No. Do you remember when I returned with Jason and Talia from Dubai? You wanted to know what Ra's said to me.”

“Oh, yeah.” The teen looked like he'd completely forgotten about it, but almost immediately his face took on a look of worry. “Does it have something to do with the baby?”

Bruce nodded. “You and Jason think we didn't find out the gender because we wanted it to be a surprise. That's partially true, but _I_ was the one who convinced Talia to do that. The real reason I didn't want to know is because I didn't want it to leak to the public... in case it's a boy.”

“Why does it matter...” Dick started to say, then realization dawned on him. “Because if it's a boy, Ra's will be interested in him. It would be...”

“The heir he always wanted.” Bruce finished for him. “That's what he said to me. He let Talia go, but if the child was male, he threatened to come for him some day.”

“That's not going to happen!” the teen declared vehemently. “We'll protect this kid no matter what it turns out to be.” He paused. “Does Talia know about this?”

“No,” Bruce shook his head. “I didn't want to scare her unless absolutely necessary, but I do want someone else to know. Just in case.”

* * * * * * * * * *

The lights were slightly dimmed inside the delivery room, and Jason was secretly a little happy about that. Logically he knew there was no reason to be afraid of hospitals per se. Not everyone who went there died. Sometimes you could be in a hospital for a _good_ reason. Sometimes, like today, there would someone new entering the world.

Talia looked better than he'd expected. She didn't look like she was in pain and seemed as calm and composed as ever. The only thing that gave her away was a very thin sheen of sweat on her forehead. When she smiled, Jason trotted over to her bedside. Tentatively he placed a hand against the impressive swell of her abdomen. He'd felt the baby kick before, but now after waiting for several moments, Jason frowned.

“It's not moving.” He looked to the mother-to-be for an explanation.

“Oh, there is plenty of movement going on.” Talia replied wryly. “But babies themselves often still after they settle to be born. It is perfectly normal.”

“If you say so.” The boy shrugged. “So... what'd you want to see me about?”

“I wished to speak to you before the baby came.” With some effort she pushed herself up to a slightly more sitting position, took his hand and held his gaze. “Your father and I grew up in a very different culture. In his world – your world – truths must be printed on paper in order to _be_ truths, even the simplest kind. That never made sense to me.”

Her smile was enigmatic as she reached over to something on the bedside table to her left, and Jason craned his neck to see her pull forward a flat tan folder. A crisp sheet of paper with an elaborate border, some typing, and a few blank lines came out.

“This,” she said, “is the baby's certificate of birth. When he or she is born, I will sign here,” she pointed to a blank line, “and your father will sign here. It will be stamped, and the baby will be ours.”

“I thought it was yours because you're doing all the hard work,” Jason put in.

She laughed. “I _am_ doing a lot of hard work, but more than that, more than sharing our blood, the child will be ours because we _want_ him. If this paper burned away, this baby will still be our child and your little brother or sister.”

Jason nodded. It made sense.

“That being said,” Talia replaced the birth certificate back in the folder and pulled out a much less ornate stapled set of papers with very small, very legal-looking print, “as ridiculous as I might find all this, it is the world I chose. Your world, Jason, and it demands that these papers are important. It is likely you feel the same, which is why I asked you here.”

She tilted them toward him, and now that he could see more clearly Jason saw what they were. He wasn't too far off; there really was a lot of legal scribble, but he recognized enough words to quickly understand what he was looking at. He touched the paper reverently.

“This... these are my adoption papers.” His voice was hushed.

Talia nodded. “Your father finalized them earlier today. We both felt that as you are older, your... certificate should be completed first. Though I want you to know that none of these papers mean a fraction as much to me as what you believe, what you wish for.”

Jason stared at the papers, then looked at her. His eyes stung a little, and he looked down.

“I'm still not like the baby.” It came out sadder than he'd intended. He'd meant to say it casually, matter-of-factly, but... it hurt. As happy as he was for them, today still hurt a little.

“You are in all ways that matter,” Talia reached out and gently tilted his chin so he would look at her again. “As far as I am concerned, it has always been the truth, and anyone who dares say that you are not ours will have quite the fight on their hands. However, this world's bureaucracy demands documents and other nonsense, and you do have a choice.”

“What do you mean?”

“You are our child, Jason, but you are also a child of this world. I accept that. Therefore if for some reason you do not feel comfortable with one or both of us signing these papers at this time, we will respect your wishes.”

Jason rubbed his nose in a tell-tale attempt of trying to cover up embarrassment, then shrugged with what he knew was most likely utterly unconvincing nonchalance.

“Like you said, it's just a piece of paper.” He bit his lip. “But... if you guys wanna make some suits happy and make it legit... I wouldn't mind.”

Her smile was so bright, Jason imagined it lighting up the dim hospital room. She hugged him as best as she could and pressed her lips on top of his head. When he pulled back, Talia smiled again, took a deep breath, and placed her free hand back on her abdomen.

“I love you,” she said then slowly took in another lung-full of air. “Now please ask your father to come back in.”

Damian Thomas Wayne entered the world about two hours later, and it was another few minutes until Jason and Dick were allowed to come and see him. The eldest still didn't look thrilled with the idea, but once his eyes landed on their new brother, clean and swaddled, Jason could see him practically melt. All dread about being in the delivery room was forgotten. They both peered over the crib, and the baby momentarily opened his eyes and squinted back at each of them. Dick grinned.

“He has your eyes.” He told Bruce.

The father nodded. “And Talia's mouth.”

Jason regarded his new brother with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity, then carefully reached out and stroked his olive cheek with one finger. Immediately the baby turned his head in search of food and having found nothing, wrinkled his brow in an unmistakable scowl. Jason grinned.

“Pretty sure he got his grandpa's eyebrows.” He put in. “Well, once they grow in. I thought babies are supposed to be cute?”

The parents laughed softly, and Dick leaned over to him to whisper. “Just think about where he was a half hour ago and be grateful they cleaned him up for us first. He'll be a lot cuter once he inflates.”

“I'm fairly certain neither of you were any better,” Bruce said pointedly.

“Yeah,” Dick agreed. “But you don't know _for sure_.” He winked at Jason. “See? There are benefits to being adopted.”

Jason grinned and looked at their father. “So where'd you come up with that name? And more importantly, can I make 'Omen' jokes when he's older?”

Dick elbowed him in the shoulder, but from the glint in his eyes, Jason could tell he was thinking the same thing. He suspected the rib was more for admitting he'd been allowed to watch the horror movie in one of their now-regular outings. Dick thought they were bonding. Jason just liked the time away from the manor where he could eat all the junk food he wanted. And... okay, maybe they were bonding a _little_ but he never had to admit to that.

“The name is Greek.” Talia was the one to explain, “which means “to conquer” or “master”. St. Damian was also the patron saint of physicians, so your father and I felt it was appropriate, given both of his grandfathers.” Jason thought he heard a note of sadness in her voice.

“I thought you wanted to go with 'Thomas',” Dick asked. “As a first name, I mean.”

“We agreed that it was best for him to have a new name,” Bruce replied, not taking his eyes off his newborn son. “Something that would be his alone. No one will make his fate but him.”

Talia gestured for someone to give her the baby, and as his father moved to do so, Jason thought about his words. His own fate had certainly turned out much different than he'd expected. He never told anyone but two years ago, he hadn't seriously expected live long enough to reach his eighteenth birthday. Crime Alley was like that. Now? Now he had parents – _real_ parents – and brothers, and looking at the newborn in his mother's arms, he knew that Dick had been right.

Life was a good thing.


End file.
